


The Song of Kieran Volume I: Ironhand

by HumbleHeWitch



Series: The Song of Kieran [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 46,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumbleHeWitch/pseuds/HumbleHeWitch
Summary: This is my narrative playthrough of Skyrim featuring my Dragonborn Kieran Lauriel Secundus, a Breton fugitive from Cyrodiil who discovers strange magical powers while escaping Helgen that will lead him on an epic quest across the breadth of Skyrim and beyond. And of all the narrative playthroughs of Skyrim out there... this is another one. This story is going to utilize characters and content both from the vanilla game and the mods I have. I am playing with way too many to list here, so if you come across any content you'd like to know more about and want to know what mod it's from, shoot me a pm or an email and I'll send you a link to the mod on the Nexus. I adore the mods I've been able to play with. The Skyrim modding community is full of talented, thoughtful, and kind people that have helped me and others rediscover our love of this game and brought us closer together as fans of the Elder Scrolls. So please don't hesitate to ask, I am more than happy to share if you come across mod content in this story or screenshots you'd like to try. The character tags I'm using are just of the main party which is going to grow as I post more of the story. New content to be released every Sunday!
Series: The Song of Kieran [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034688
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Black Wings Unfurled

The pages of this journal, meant to chronicle the adventures of my new life as an exile and fugitive sees its first and last entry today. For I know not where I am bound. The details of my capture remain hazy, save being surrounded by Imperial Legionnaires mere hours after crossing the border into Skyrim, then awakening in a small darkened cell. Forgive me Uncle Dravus. It seems this last gift from you will do little more than record my last hours. But I write anyway to remember. Remember in these final moments that I am NOT what they say I am. I am no mongrel, and I am no mistake. My name is Kieran Lauriel Secundus. I am an Imperial Citizen of Cyrodiil, raised in the light of the Divines. I am the son of Violetta Decimus Secundus, former Captain of the Imperial Legion who loved me til she drew her last breath in my seventh winter. The son of Edmond Lauriel, exiled Prince of High Rock who I never met. The Nephew of Dravus Decimus Secundus, Questor of the Imperial Legion who gifted me with this journal and ever treated me with dignity and kindness. Though I leave behind no land or belongings save this journal, no great deeds to speak of, I at least have this knowledge. This truth that I existed. That I was loved. That I mattered. Whether I remain to rot in a forgotten dungeon, or the headsman's block, I will carry this truth to Aetherius within my heart. For they cannot take that from me.

**Entry One**

I was wrong. So very wrong. Last night I wrote what I believed would be my first and final entry in this journal. I declared with such zeal who I was. But I had no idea. I HAVE no idea. Who am I? What am I? So much happened in a single day. My heart races as I try to recall. So I attempt to commit it to these pages. I will try anyway.  
The only thing more unlikely than to see a dragon would be to have your life rescued by a dragon. And yet I can say I have lived through both. Truly Uncle! A dragon! Just like from the tales and legends! Just that morning I had been loaded onto a cart, a prisoner slated for execution. I had resigned myself to my fate. I was taken to Helgen along with a group of Stormcloak Rebels. I still don't remember much of what happened or how, but it seems my capture was completely coincidental. The legion soldiers had simply mistaken me for a rebel. None of them knew who I was or even spoke to me. And is it any wonder? In the cart next to me, bound and gagged was Ulfric Stormcloak himself! The leader of the Skyrim rebellion. It was him the legion was really after. I had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

We were carted to a village called Helgen. I watched as the soldiers ordered our execution. I saw one Stormcloak lose his head to the headsman's axe. And I was next. My head was on the block. Then from the sky, it swooped like a great fiery cloud with black wings unfurled. It roared with a voice that tore the sky open! The entire town was in flames as fire rained from the sky. But in the confusion I was able to escape with the Stormcloaks. One could call it a miracle were it not so horrible. Fire and death all around. I could live a hundred years and never forget the putrid smell of burning flesh, or the sight of a boy's face as he watched his father consumed in the blaze that shot from the dragon's maw. 

Part of me wanted to remain with the soldiers. A massacre all around them. A beast of legend that their steel could not pierce. And they still fought to rescue who they could. It's what you would have done. What mother would have done. But I didn't. I ran. You were wrong Uncle. I am a coward. I was afraid. Afraid they would clap me in irons again, or finish what the headsman could not. Afraid they might learn who I was. Afraid of what would happen to you if Uncle Meridius learned of your part in my escape. Afraid of what would happen if Aunt Lavinia learned where I was. Even if I could make someone in the legion listen, it would be my word against hers. The word of a coward, a mongrel fugitive against a chancellor of the Elder Council. So I ran. And that really is the least of it. In the course of my escape I discovered something. Something incredible and terrifying. Something I don't understand.

The rebel who helped me escape, Ralof is his name, led us through a passage beneath the keep of Helgen. Together we fought through giant spiders, and to my shame Imperial soldiers. By some miracle it opened up to a cave that eventually led us outside. But before we reached the cave's exit, we found the way blocked by a sleeping she-bear. Ralof passed me a bow and some arrows and suggested we sneak by. We crept around her, but I kept my arrow trained on it. It almost felt like our summer hunting trips in the great forest, the taut feel of the bowstring, the slow and steady rythm of my breathing to keep my aim level. And a good thing I had the bow drawn. A life of trying to make myself as small as possible to escape Uncle Meridius' notice as often as I could seems to have made me very light of foot. But Ralof was injured and wearing heavier gear than what I had managed to take for myself in the keep. The bear awoke and roared. I loosed the arrow. Uncle you would have been so proud to have seen my shot. Right into its neck, a shot that would have brought down a bull elk! But the same cannot be said for an angry cave bear. There was no time to draw a second arrow. The beast was upon us.

As the bear charged I reacted in a way I never have. In the second the bear began to charge I felt a hum. An almost imperceptible humming from my right arm down to my hand. I dropped the bow and stretched my hand forward, and... lightning!  
Lightning shot from my outstretched hand, finishing what my arrow had started and slaying the bear before she could reach us. Never in my life have I performed magic. You know this. Mother told me my father had been a clever mage, yet she rarely spoke of his magic. And when she did it was always with a sad remembrance. I'll never know why the thought of father's magic made her sad, but it must have. She made me promise I would never take it up. But even if she had encouraged me, Uncle Meridius would have forbidden it. He would never allow his mongrel nephew become even more like those "witch-elves" he fought in the Great War. So you must believe me when I say this truly was my first act of magic. I had no way of even knowing I could, but Divines as my witness, I did. And there was more. I have seen magic done in the Imperial City. I've even seen it used by Aunt Lavinia. But mine looked different. I don't know how else to say it. The lightning that shot from my hand took form from a circle of runes that appeared in the air from my palm. A spinning runic disc of pure energy. Ralof said nothing about it, save relief that we had managed to survive a bear attack. He was surprised of course to see me use magic where I hadn't through the rest of our escape. But he said nothing about the strange runes. They vanished very quickly, so perhaps he didn't notice. Then again, Ralof is a Nord, and I'm given to understand they don't have much trust or interest in magic. So perhaps he doesn't notice anything odd about it. But I did. Plain as day.

We left the cave behind us just in time to see the dragon once more take to the sky. We watched it fly away from the burning ruin that was once the village of Helgen. I don't wish to dwell on it, but I can't help but wonder how many made it out alive. Perhaps Ralof and I were the only survivors. In any event, we made our way down the path. Ralof suggested we head to Riverwood where he hoped his sister Gerdur could help us get some provisions. Along the way we came across three Standing Stones. Ralof told me there are thirteen that dot the landscape of Skyrim, each made for a different constellation.  
They're just like the ones in Cyrodiil! The three we had come across were the Guardian Stones. Remember Uncle Dravus? You said when I was a man you would take me to the Guardian Stones so I could place my hand on the warrior, just like you and mother before me. I hope one day we can still make that trip when we see each other again. Whenever that may be.  
Yet it was not the warrior I reached for. I wanted to, just like I'd dreamed of doing since the day you promised to take me. But when I put my hand forward I felt that hum again. It seemed to tug my hand in a different direction. Before I knew it, my hand touched the surface of the mage stone and the constellation carved into its face glowed like the night sky. Ralof didn't think much of my choice. But I can't say it was a choice at all. When I touched it I saw again the circle of runes. I can't say it felt right, but it doesn't feel wrong either. I don't understand. I wish you were here to tell me.

We finally reached Riverwood, somehow ahead of any Imperial legionnaires or even news of Helgen. We met up with Gerdur and her husband Hod who run the village mill together, along with their young son Frodnar. We told them everything we had seen along with the tale of our escape. They were understandably shocked and worried by the news. My own knees tremble at the mere memory of the dragon. They graciously invited us into their home for some food and rest. They are truly kind people. Not at all what I had imagined the rebel Nords of Skyrim would be. Those unruly barbarians Uncle Meridius curses to Oblivion in both his drunk and sober hours.

  


However, Gerdur made a request of me. For the safety of Riverwood she believes the Jarl of Whiterun must be told of the dragon attack. Whiterun is the name of the province we are in, or hold as they call it here. The Jarl I learned has much of the same authority Uncle Meridius wields in Cyrodiil as Count. If the Jarl were told of the attack, he would be able to send soldiers to defend the village. Ralof can't make the journey to Whiterun City due to his injury, and Gerdur was wary of sending anyone else from the village. She didn't want to risk causing a panic. I agreed to carry their message for them. How could I say no after they'd sheltered me with such kindness? I'll rest now and prepare to head out in the morning. But I can't sleep. Can the Jarl's men really do anything against what I saw? Arrows and spells bounced off the dragon's hide like rain drops. It had snatched full grown men in its jaws like a hound to a hare. Its fire had reduced the whole of Helgen to ash in minutes. 

And worst of all, it spoke. When it landed on the tower I heard it speak in a language I didn't understand. But it was clear from the way it spoke and held itself, it was as if it was declaring lordship over us tiny men and mer as we scurried beneath its burning red gaze. That was no base creature. That dragon was an intelligent being that barely considered us. We were nothing to it. I still see those eyes and here that voice like thunder in my mind. What mortal can stand against that? 


	2. Rumors of Dragons

**Entry Two**

I set out for Whiterun and the palace of Dragonsreach this morning. Along the way I passed an Imperial escort. They were escorting a Stormcloak prisoner. It pained me to watch, knowing that could have easily been me or Ralof. But there was nothing I could do. Not unless I wanted to draw my sword against more soldiers of the legion you continue to serve. The legion for whom you and mother instilled in me respect. They were just three men following their orders. Still I felt sick at the thought of what fate awaited that rebel. Am I really so different from him? A fugitive of the Empire? Unable to openly worship who I want? Gerdur and Hod's secret prayers to Talos over our supper last night reminded me of the little book of Phynaster's teachings my mother gave to me. The one she said belonged to my father which she instructed me to keep secret. Divines, I'll probably never see that book again. My little room in the loft of the estate has probably been turned over by now. And Uncle Meridius is sure to burn it when he finds it. I'm sure he was disgusted to learn his mongrel nephew has been praying in secret to a "heathen mer god" under his very nose all these years. 

As the prisoner passed he looked me in the eye and said without hesitation or fear "If you know any true sons and daughters of Skyrim, tell them to head to Windhelm." I didn't know what else to do, so remembering the old Nordic saying I mouthed "Talos guide you." I said a silent prayer to Phynaster as well that his path may lead him to a brighter day. I kept walking.

**Entry Three**

Uncle Dravus, your nephew fought a Giant Today! Well not alone, but still the thought of me taking up arms against a giant at all? Can you believe it? However I didn't do so alone. In fact truth be told I barely did a thing. I saw the giant tangling with three warriors on a nearby farmstead just as I crested the hill on the path to Whiterun. I don't know what came over me. It was just like the cave with the bear. I ran into the fray, my sword drawn and my hand outstretched, once more conjuring that odd circle of runes, casting lightning from its center. It stunned the Giant long enough for the three warriors to finish it off: a hulking Nord man wielding a greatsword, an Imperial girl who appeared barely older than me with a sword and shield, and a fierce looking red haired huntress. After it fell, the three of them thanked me. Sort of. The huntress' exact words were "not bad for a milk drinker." I'm not sure I understand the expression, but it's definitely not high praise. She must have that traditional Nordic distrust of magic as well. Still they were impressed that I reacted so quickly and told me if I trained hard I might make for a decent Shield Brother one day. When I asked them what they meant the huntress told me they were members of the Companions. I think I've heard of them. They're a lot like the Fighter's Guild back home. They say they fight for those who cannot, and turn up to solve problems if the coin is good enough. They were gruff and straightforward, but I think I liked that about them. And their mention of coin did remind me how low I am on funds at the moment. I can't continue to rely on the generosity of Gerdur and Hod. They've already risked enough for me and they have Ralof to worry about. And if I'm intent on surviving as a fugitive, it wouldn't hurt to hone what little skills I have. Divines know you tried your best to teach me what you could of the sword in secret when you returned from active duty. But I think it's going to take more than that to keep me alive. Skyrim is no place for "milk-drinkers."

**Entry Four**

It was nightfall when I finally reached Whiterun. I met a woman at the gate, a blacksmith named Adrienne. She was running her forge late into the night, apparently trying to fill what sounds like an impossible order. She didn't elaborate other than it was an order for swords for the legion put to her by a very influential family in Whiterun. She looked pretty well done in so I offered to help. Obviously I couldn't forge anything for her, but at the very least I could tan leather like I did for Quartermaster Verus at Uncle Meridius' estate. She declined the offer but did ask that I deliver a greatsword to her father. Apparently he's the Jarl's steward at Dragonsreach, and I was on my way to the palace anyway. She made it special for the Jarl and even my untrained eye could see the quality of her work. It truly is an elegant blade, but Divines is it ever heavy! 

I had barely set foot in the palace before I was accosted by the Jarl's Dunmer housecarl who demanded to know the meaning of my intrusion. She relented when I told her I had news of Helgen. It seems there have been sightings of the dragon, and word of them reached Whiterun ahead of me. When I told Jarl Balgruuf the truth of what had happened, he jumped into action and had his housecarl Irileth send a detachment to Riverwood.  
Jarl Balgruuf thanked me for taking action on behalf of his people and asked me if I could assist with another matter regarding his court wizard Farengar. He claims it's related to these "dragons and rumors of dragons" as he called it. Who am I to refuse a Jarl? Especially one that seems to take such immediate action for the safety of his citizens. His devotion to his people is clear. Furthermore, Farengar is the first mage I've met in Skyrim so far. Perhaps he can tell me more about my magic, and the runes. If I can trust him that is.

Farengar himself is a rather aloof man, even condescending at times. But he is clearly knowledgeable of and fascinated by dragons. He says he's heard of an artifact called a Dragonstone that has some ancient writing on it. This could provide answers to why dragons have suddenly reappeared. When I asked how he knew about it and its location he declined to reveal his source. Professional secrets he called them. Perhaps he is trustworthy. As for the stone, it's in a place called Bleak Falls Barrow, a ruin up the mountain path near Riverwood. It seems I'll be heading back there after all. In the morning. For now I'm exhausted. I don't dare ask the Jarl to stay at Dragonsreach. He seems hospitable enough, but Irileth is another matter. I'd rather not draw unnecessary attention to myself. One of the guards told me the Bannered Mare has rooms available. I'll lodge there for the night.


	3. A Most Marvelous Prospect

**Entry Four**

It seems I've made a friend. I entered the Bannered Mare to the heady smells of meat and mead. I secured a room for the night using the septims Farengar was kind enough to loan me for lodging. But before I could settle in for the night, I was approached by a man who called himself Lucien Flavius of Cyrodiil. A self proclaimed scholar, philosopher, amateur wizard, and sometimes musician. These are his words. He noticed my gear and asked where I was headed in the morning. He seemed amiable enough so I saw no harm in telling him of my errand to Bleakfalls Barrow. He was immediately intrigued. He practically dragged me back to his table and begged to know more. 

I tried to hold back, but he eagerly pressed me for more information. Probably against my better judgment I ended up telling him the whole story of my journey from Helgen on. I didn't tell him why I'd been in Helgen, but I don't believe he would have asked. He was far more interested in hearing about the dragon. 

"How fortuitous!" he exclaimed. "The nature of your expedition is the very reason I've come to Skyrim! I find the province simply fascinating! The flora, the fauna, the ruins --both Dwemer and Nordic, the architecture, the politics!" He went on to admit he isn't much of a fighter. He knows a few spells and can just about swing a sword but that is the extent of his abilities. He wishes to explore all Skyrim has to offer, but would feel safer with someone more capable to tag along with. And since I appear to be heading to just such a Nordic ruin in search of an enticing artifact, it seems I'm exactly the kind of person he's looking for. 

I tried to explain it would be far too dangerous for him to come along with me. I have no idea what could be lurking in the barrow. But he was rather insistent he could handle the danger if I were around to keep him safe. I had just been about to admit my own abilities probably weren't much better than his own. In fact he might be better off. He knows spells. Spells plural. I only know one, and I'm a long way from understanding that one. I was about to admit as much when he mentioned compensation. The mere mention of payment seemed to awaken a sabre cat in my stomach. After all I'd barely eaten since leaving Riverwood and had squandered the provisions Gerdur and Hod had given me in a single morning. I nearly hit the floor when Lucien promised 300 septims up front! I couldn't say no. After all, it might be handy to have an extra pair of eyes delving into the barrow with me. 

Tonight I ate like a king. I treated Lucien and I to a veritable feast! Well I suppose Lucien treated us since it was his gold I used to pay for it. Buttered venison chop with apple cabbage stew, and to my delight, my favorite honey-nut treats! I was so excited to learn they serve them here in Skyrim. I devoured three of them! They were as delicious as I remember. Lucien and I are resting up now and will head to the barrow in the morning. He swears he can't sleep this is so exciting to him. Perhaps it's the fine food putting me in better spirits, but Lucien's enthusiasm is contagious. This is going to be quite the adventure.

**Entry Five**

My eagerness from the night before has been tempered somewhat by an uneasy sleep plagued with nightmares. I'm still unable to escape the fire and carnage I witnessed at Helgen.  
In my nightmare the dragon gazed down at me with its red eyes of burning hot coal and spoke in that voice again. That otherworldly terrible voice. Though I couldn't understand its speech, its words were clear. I attempt to write them now in the hopes that Farengar or even Lucien might be able to decipher their meaning later.  
With a mighty roar, the dragon declared  
"Zu'u lost daal. Daar Lein los dii. Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan."


	4. The Golden Claw

**Entry Six**

The time has come sooner than expected to come clean with Lucien. We made our way to Bleak Falls Barrow and it didn't take long for us to run into trouble. The ruin was already inhabited by bandits. The skirmish was quick between a few well placed arrows from my bow, and Lucien's fire.  
"That was exhilarating! We make quite the team you and I." Lucien declared after the last of them fell. Quite the change in him from when the first of them lumbered towards us with a great club and he asked the brute if discussion was an option. Still we survived, and I saw no need at the time to point out that was more to do with luck than any skill on our part.  
Our arrival interrupted their lunch and they were all quite drunk. Had they been fully armed and sober that fight would have ended very differently for both of us. Or if they had thought to station watchmen, they would have been able to see us coming up the mountain from fifty leagues off. And Lucien's statement that he can "just about swing a sword" is too generous by far.  
Once we entered the ruin our descent was smooth and uneventful save for an embarrassing encounter with a trio of skeevers. Oblivion take them, I HATE skeevers! I'm sure I wasn't the most heroic figure shrieking and backing away while blasting them with lightning. But Lucien didn't comment at the time, being about as in control of the situation as I was. I'm grateful for his help, but I almost retched at the smell of charred skeever.  
Our journey was blocked however when we came across a gigantic frostbite spider that had a dark elf bandit caught in its web. The elf cried out to us for help as it was just descending to feed on him. As luck would have it, the creature was already wounded so we made short work of it. 

The bandit, who proudly called himself "Arvel the Swift" asked us to cut him down, enticing us with an offer to show us the secret treasure of the barrow. Could this be the Dragonstone we came for? We agreed to cut him down, and the scoundrel lived up to his name by immediately fleeing. We chased him down, perhaps unwisely. Arvel had barely escaped one peril only to be killed by another. As he raced past the interred dead, to our horror the dead began to rise.  
Draugr! Uncle Dravus, your campfire tales came to life right before my eyes, from their gray mottled flesh to their hollow glowing blue eyes!  
Arvel shrieked in terror and backed away from the first right onto some sort of pressure plate. A grate of spikes swung from the wall, killing him before he hit the ground. That left us with the walking dead.  
The first lumbered toward me, ancient and rusted blade in hand. I was transfixed by its glowing lifeless gaze, I couldn't move. My grip on my sword slackened. Had Lucien not been with me, a second would have cut me down from behind. The sound of its guttural roar as its burning form went down, and Lucien's cry for help snapped me out of my fear induced trance. I locked blades with the creature before unleashing lightning from my hand and blasting it backward into the very spike trap that had killed Arvel. When everything had settled I felt it was time to tell Lucien the truth. That I'm no seasoned adventurer.

"Oh. Oh I see." He said. "Well that would have been good to know before we left the Bannered Mare!"  
I reminded him I had tried to tell him as much last night, and he admitted he may have been a bit overzealous. He couldn't blame me for taking the job with how quick he'd been to flash his gold about.  
That made me feel low. The truth is I did take advantage of Lucien, of his trusting nature and his money. And endangered his life for a few meager comforts and a honey-nut treat... two... three honey-nut treats. We're taking a moment to rest now to catch our breath. I'm going over the items Arvel carried, hoping for a clue to what he knew about the barrow. Lucien is wandering about the chamber taking notes, not talking and avoiding looking at me. And I can't blame him. He must be furious with me.

**Entry Seven**

Lucien is quick to forgive. After a moment of catching our breath he said that while I had led him on to believe I was more skilled than I actually was, he knows my skills are still better than his. With a sword and bow at any rate. And that he still is in need of a travelling companion. 

"Listen," He admitted. "You aren't the first mercenary I've approached since coming to Skyrim. You weren't even the first in that tavern. You were however the first to give me a chance. With that air of desperation I must have been giving off, I'm quite fortunate I didn't fall in with some thug intent on robbing me down to my smallclothes. In that light, I'm lucky to have fallen in with you instead. So you aren't as handy with a blade as I'd thought. You're still a sight better than I am. And you're being quite modest about your marksmanship. But more importantly, you're an honest sort Kieran. And that's a quality in a traveling companion I'd choose over skill any day."

I apologized and swore to pay back every last septim he paid me. He insisted there was no need since what little I'd spent had gone to feed both of us. And if this Dragonstone really does contain information on the dragons, then this trip alone is already worth the price to him so long as we both make it back to Whiterun alive. Still I swore there was no need to pay me any further and he agreed.  
As for what I found on Arvel, there were two items of note. A journal, and what looks like some sort of claw carved out of gold. There are three symbols etched into its "palm" of a bear, a moth, and an owl. Arvel's journal reveals he stole it from Lucan Valerius, the owner of the Riverwood Trader. We'll have to return it when we get out of this tomb. Arvel believed the claw was the key to Bleakfalls Barrow. He wrote that the chamber, where what he called "the ancient power of the Nords" resides is sealed. But the way could be opened. The only clue we have though is a riddle. The final line of his journal reads "when you have the golden claw, you hold the answer in the palm of your hand." Perhaps we'll find the answer as we head deeper in.


	5. The Treasure of the Barrow

**Entry Eight**

We've done it! We've recovered the Dragonstone! A stone tablet with ancient writing and a carving of a dragon. But our prize wasn't claimed easily. After leaving the chamber where we first encountered the draugr and Arvel met his unfortunate fate, we found that most of the draugr are quite slow. Most of them we could shoot from a distance as they rose from their crypts. However, the ones in the final few chambers proved more of a challenge. Lucien and I learned a trick to even our odds somewhat. Apparently the crypt is kept lit by oil lamps. But by whom? The draugr? Is it some condition of their undeath that they're compelled to maintain the very tomb they're interred in? It could hardly be anyone else. But they don't seem very adept at it, as more than one of the barrow's stone floors is coated in oil, whether spilled or leaked slowly from the unlit lamps. With some careful timing and a spark, the oil igites and makes the draugr much more manageable. Though fighting flaming draugr carries its own risks.

It was in between one of these encounters that Lucien finally asked what I knew was coming. There was no hiding it. I had used magic against the first of the draugr. And Lucien is a scholar. There was no hiding my runes from someone as observant as he.

"So those... disc things. When you cast your spells. What are those exactly?" I admitted I didn't know. "Extraordinary! Do you suppose they serve any purpose? Amplify your magical power perhaps?"

"I don't know." I repeated. "It wasn't until Helgen I even knew I could use magic."

"Oh well anyone can use magic." He informed me. "True it comes easier to some than others, but the potential to harness the magicka in the air around us is everyone. Though for most it takes years of careful study and practice. You say you only just discovered you could call lightning? And you've no training aside from that."

"That's what I said."

"Truly remarkable. That latent talent, combined with your magic's unique... signature. I've never read about anything quite like your runes. We simply must unravel this mystery together! If you're still amenable to my company after this that is."

I nodded with a smile. "I think I'd like that. But First let's focus on getting that Dragonstone."

We came to the inner sanctum which, as Arvel's journal had suggested was sealed behind a massive stone door. There was a clear magical signature of some kind on it, because it wouldn't budge from our combined efforts at forcing it open. Weapons and spells didn't leave any sort of mark. But there were three rings on its face with a claw shaped keyhole in its center. After some experimentation we discovered the rings could be turned, and they they each had different symbols etched into them. The riddle made sense. These symbols were the same as the ones on the golden claw! We lined up the rings so they showed the same bear, moth, and owl on the claw in the correct order, and pressed the claw into the keyhole. With a sharp twist, the door groaned and rumbled, then descended into the floor. The sanctum beyond was a great cave chamber, at the back of which was a raised platform. On the platform was a sealed sarcophagus and a great stone wall with ancient writing scrawled all across its surface. 

More and more my ignorance of magic frustrates me, because I heard chanting coming from the wall. Low and rhythmic chanting, and it seemed to echo from a singular word on the wall that glowed with an ethereal light. Lucien swears he heard nothing and saw nothing apart from me staring transfixed at the wall in a sort of trance until the sarcophagus behind us burst open. A draugr more deadly then all those we'd faced before emerged from within, wielding a greatsword enchanted with a bitter cold. By splitting up to flank it and combining our spells, my lightning and Lucien's fire, we were able to weaken it. Then I closed the space to finish it off with my blade. I echo Lucien's early sentiment. It was exhilarating! For a moment I felt like one of the heroes in the songs and tales! And better still, the creature carried with it the Dragonstone! Lucien took a rubbing of the writing for study, and admits he can't read the language. It must be old. Very old. He suggested perhaps it might be ancient draconic. If that's the case, Farengar should be able to tell us more. We took the stone and the draugr's enchanted blade. Lucien's promised to show me how to dismantle it to learn more about its enchantment when we return to Whiterun. I've always wanted to learn more of enchanting ever since you came home with that flaming Alik'r blade you so prize.

For now we're enjoying the fresh night air, gladly putting Bleakfalls Barrow behind us. We found a small abandoned campsite by the river, along with another great find! Whoever this camp belonged to also left behind a book: "Ghost Stories of Tamriel Volume II." Lucien and I spent the night by the fire, taking turns reading the chilling tale of the haunted painter to each other before turning in for the night. In the morning we'll return the claw to the Riverwood Trader, then set out again for Whiterun.

**Entry Nine**

We reached Riverwood in the early morning and returned the claw to Lucan Valerius and his sister Camilla. They were overjoyed at its return and paid us well for giving it back to them. Enough for us to buy some supplies, pay for lodging, and then some! But that wasn't the interesting part of our visit. We were stopped on the road into the village by an excitable looking Wood Elf with shocking red hair and... eye catching gear. He introduced himself as Vander Nightbrook, Skyrim's representative of the Post Haste Delivery service. He swears he'll deliver any and all packages and letters from "Robbers Gorge to the Aetherium Forge." He had to rush off, and Phynaster's Stride he was fast! But he claims he'll find us whenever and wherever we happen to be. I find it unlikely that a single Bosmer can deliver all the letters and packages across Skyrim, no matter how fleet of foot. But Vander was an interesting enough fellow. A run in with him somewhere down the road would be welcome.


	6. Of Dragon and Stone

**Entry Ten**

Dragonborn. Surely I can't be. One who carries the blood of dragons? As Saint Alessia of Old? As Reman Cyrodiil? As Tiber Septim himself? These were great leaders, heroes of legend! I'm an exile. A mongrel that can't even call myself man or mer. Surely I'm not worthy of such a lofty title. Yet that is what the men of Whiterun have declared me this day, and so it seems have the Greybeards. 

Lucien and I returned to Dragonsreach and caught Farengar conversing with a hooded woman in leather mail. She didn't give her name, but her face was familiar to me. One of the villagers from Riverwood? Farengar was happy to receive the Dragonstone and identified his associate as the one who brokered the information of its location. What her interest in the stone was I didn't have time to ask. No sooner had Farengar thanked us for our part in retrieving it then Irileth ordered us to report to the Jarl. A dragon had been sighted at the western watchtower. 

After hearing a terrified recounting from the guardsman who had seen the dragon circling the tower, Jarl Balgruuf mobilized us into a patrol led by Irileth to investigate. Lucien's fear of confronting such a danger eventually lost out to his own academic curiosity at the thought of seeing a creature of legend. But for me, the very mention of the word "dragon" only conjures up the horror I witnessed at Helgen. My knees were trembling. I was the only one with an idea of what we were heading to face at the tower. And that's why I knew I had to go. What I know of dragons couldn't fill a thimble, but it was still more than anyone in our patrol. Even Irileth, a seasoned veteran warrior has never faced a dragon. Still, Lucien is always reminding me what a valuable commodity knowledge is. What little I know could very well have meant the difference between these brave men returning home to their families or being burned alive by dragon fire.

We reached the site of the watchtower to find only a burning ruin. As we fanned out to investigate, the dragon swooped down from the mountain, showering us in a gout of flames. The wyrm may not have been as mighty or fearsome as the one at Helgen, but it was still great and terrible to behold as it flew overhead, taunting us in its booming ancient tongue. It was a mighty battle. Whiterun lost good men this day. Whether to its fiery breath, or razor jaws. But with our arrows and the combined magic of Irileth, myself, and Lucien, we knocked it from the sky to meet us on the ground where we could engage it with our blades and hammers. 

As it lunged its fanged maw for me, I swiped its face with the edge of my blade, turning its assault aside. A ferocity I have never felt swelled within me and I leaped to a nearby rock to vault myself onto the dragon's neck! From there I was able to plunge my sword beneath its tough hide to its flesh underneath. This killing blow made the dragon reel back, throwing me from its back to hit the ground. With its dying breath I heard it cry in despair "Dovahkiin! No!"

Flames engulfed the creature's entire form until only its bones remained. But they did not burn out. No. They swirled from the fallen dragon around me. Into me! My flesh burned and my head screamed from the ache as a millennia of power and fragmented memories filled it. So much flashed through, but all I could hear was the chanting. The ancient chanting I had heard in Bleak Falls Barrow. I saw the carving on the wall, and I knew that word. The one that had held me so entranced. "Fus." But more, I knew its meaning: Force. 

I knew the dragon's name. Mirmulnir: Allegiance Strong Hunt." I could still hear its voice. I hear it now, though it's begun to fade. 

Fus. That word, its meaning, it's very essence filled me. I was a mere container for it. A fragile bottle of glass around a raging typhoon! I thought for sure it would break me apart until I opened my mouth and released it. "Fus!" I cried, and my voice carried a force like thunder with it into the heavens. 

By the smallest of degrees, the overwhelming power that had flowed from the dragon into me receded like a burning tide. I thought for a moment it would pull me with it into Oblivion. But Lucien's hand on my shoulder kept me tethered to Nirn. For now at least. 

"That... thing with the lights and the... burning. Does that happen often?" He asked. I told him it never had before. Of course it hadn't. When was the last time someone killed a dragon? "You get more and more intriguing by the moment don't you. 

One of the surviving guardsmen in disbelief claimed that what I had just done was take the dragon's very soul into myself. And that this could only be done by a Dragonborn. I almost laughed. Dragonborn! A hero blessed by Akatosh? But the man said it with such reverence and surety. Nothing I said could dissuade him.

"I saw you take that dragon's very soul, then turn its power into a shout. You summoned the Thu'um, the ancient power of the voice! Just as Tiber Septim did when he was still Talos of Atmora! What else could it mean?" I continued to shake my head. but found I couldn't speak. My head felt like an entire lake was swishing around inside it. The men deferred to Irileth who decided it was best not to concern ourselves with myths and legends for now, and focus on what was in front of us: a dead dragon. Which for her was enough. Now we know they can be killed. But the men continued to whisper even as we began the march back to the city. Some of them averted their gaze, others stared at me in awe.

Lucien kept his own eyes trained on me, practically salivating at the flood of questions I'm sure he had. But Divines bless him he must have noticed I was using all my strength just to keep walking and kept them to himself. For the moment. 

The city gates were in sight when the day gave us one final upheaval. The heavens cracked with thunder that nearly knocked us all off our feet. That thunder carried voices. Voices of men all speaking as one. The plains of Whiterun echoed with the sound:  
"Do-Va-Khiin!"


	7. When the Greybeards Call

**Entry Eleven**

The call of Dovahkiin resounded even within the walls of Dragonsreach. When we approached Jarl Balgruuf's throne, he demanded to know what happened at the watchtower. And despite my reticence, the whole story was revealed. I absorbed the dragon's soul and called forth the ancient Thu'um. At this, the Jarl leaned back in his seat and clapped his hand to his head in disbelief. Then he told me the meaning of the sound that had torn from the sky as we returned.

The thundering voice from the heavens had been the voice of the Greybeards summoning me to High Hrothgar at the throat of the world, the highest mountain in Skyrim. Perhaps in all of Tamriel. Before the whole court, Jarl Balgruuf proclaimed me Dragonborn to the cheers of the men.

"You'd better go to High Hrothgar." He said with a sort of reverence. "There's no denying a summons from the Greybeards. But tonight we feast in your honor! And to the honor of Whiterun's dragon slayers!" It truly was a feast, but it wasn't easy to enjoy it. I'm not used to such high praise and so many eyes on me. Jarl Balgruuf named me a Thane of Whiterun. Me! A Breton fugitive now a thane in the court of a Nord Jarl! He claimed it was an honorary title mainly. Still he presented me with new armor of reinforced steel and a blade to serve as my badge of office. The armor is heavier than what I'm used to, but Lucien insisted I wear it to the feast in order to "look the part." The blade on the other hand is a thing of true beauty. The crossguard of its hilt is carved like the head of the horse of Whiterun's banners. And Farengar tells me it bears a unique enchantment he calls "the Bane of Numinex" in honor of the tale of Numinex the dragon which Dragonsreach was built to ensnare centuries ago. Its magic allows its wielder to resist fire, and he assures me its steel will be more baneful to dragons. Though he admits the magic has yet to be tested. 

The household of Dragonsreach feasted long into the night. When at last I was able to draw away from the feast I asked Lucien what he knew of the Dragonborn and what his thoughts on the matter were. Like me he admitted he's more familiar with the Cyrodiilic legends than the Nordic ones, but believes it might be possible that I'm descended from one of the Dragonborn bloodlines. I told him that was doubtful. The Alessian and Cyrodiilic bloodlines died out long ago, and the last Septim was killed at the height of the Oblivion Crisis at the end of the third era. 

Then Lucien suggested "Maybe the Gods just like you." Which I found equally laughable. In any case he's just as unsure as I am as to whether I am a true Dragonborn or not.

"But as far as the men, and anyone else for that matter" he said "I see no harm in letting them believe it. The world is a frightening place right now. Civil War, the Thalmor, and now this Dragon Crisis? They need something, anything to believe in right now. When those men saw... whatever it was that happened between you and that dragon, it gave them hope. I don't see that as a bad thing. And look at all the free food it's brought us!" I'm immensely grateful for his ability to see the lighter side of things. 

"As for the truth of the matter, I suppose we'll know more when we reach High Hrothgar." When I asked if that meant he planned on coming with me, he was genuinely surprised. "You must be joking! I'm seeing history in the making before my very eyes! I could hardly stop shadowing you now. Think of the research! The discovery! I can hardly let a little hike stand in the way of something like that!... How many steps is it to High Hrothgar again?"

We feasted long into the night and when things had quieted down we slipped out of Dragonsreach to the Bannered Mare. The food and drink were wonderful, but I knew I wouldn't get any rest there. I still feel what happened with the dragon in my being. It's like a heartbeat. Small for now, but when you focus on it you can't un-feel it. 

**Entry Twelve**

I awoke an hour ago and stumbled from the tavern into the cold night air, emptying my stomach into the bushes out back. I fell to my knees and could not rise for a long while. In my sleep, the dragon's being filled me once more, and the knowledge I gleaned was enough for me to wake from a dead sleep in a cold sweat. 

I now know the name of the dragon I killed. Mirmulnir. I know his name meant "Alleigance Strong Hunt." In my dreams I saw brief passages of its life, from dominating man and mer, to flying through the skies over an ancient land with the multitudes of its brethren, to its long sleep. The shame that chaffed at it for being driven into hiding to await the great day of his kind's return. Then I was flying over the Western Watchtower. I was Mirmulnir. I saw myself, a weak and lowly mortal on the ground with blade and meager magic in hand. I looked into my own eyes and felt terror at the realization. 

I cried "Dovahkiin! NO!" I stared into the dragon's eyes with my own, and saw myself staring back. And in both our eyes I saw Helgen. Flames and death and a great black dragon before whom even Mirmulnir bowed and trembled. I heard its voice, and this time I understood:

"Zu'u lost daal. Dar Lein los dii. Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan."  
I have returned. This world is mine. Those who do not bow will be devoured.


	8. Take Up Arms

**Entry Thirteen**

We bid our farewells to the Jarl this morning and he wished us luck on our journey.  
"I envy you, you know. To climb the seven thousand steps again. I made the pilgrimage once. Did you know that?"

Honorary title or not, anyone would be proud to count themselves in the service of a man like Jarl Balgruuf. I think you would like him Uncle. He seems to me a contemplative leader worthy of respect, and I feel honored to have been named thane in his court. I hope my travels take me back to Whiterun one day. Before we set off, I convinced Lucien we should first stop by Jorrvaskr. I told him of my encounter with the Companions and the giant, and how they might consider giving us at least some basic training before we set out. The path to High Hrothgar starts clear on the other side of the Throat of the world, not to mention the seven thousand steps up the mountainside itself! Our skills are hardly up to snuff to make the journey just yet (nor are our funds). We're going to need all the pointers we can get. And who better than the Companions? I can't help but laugh at the thought of us two "milk drinkers" striding with any confidence into Jorrvaskr. Still, we did just kill a dragon just yesterday! Why should this frighten us?

**Entry Fourteen**

Uncle you lied to me! You were holding back in our training sessions! 

I spoke with Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions who said if we wished to join, he needed to gauge our abilities. We were taken out to the training yard to spar with one of their veteran members Vilkas. The blows of his greatsword hit like a hammer! They rang all the way up through my arms and into my shoulders. I thought my sword was going to go flying from my grasp! He said my skills weren't bad and that I might just make it. Lucien's on the other hand need a great deal of polishing. In either case we would both benefit from a strength training regimen. 

For now we're "whelps." I gather that's what they call new prospective members. Or pups. I can tell they don't mean anything by it. It's just their way. So I try not to let it bother me. Still I can't help but remember the times I suffered "cur" or "mongrel" from Uncle Meridius.

We spent the day between sparring and training, running errands and doing some of the day laboring around Jorrvaskr. It's expected of lower ranking members. Especially "new bloods." Even from the bottom rung though, I can't help but feel awash in the air of comraderie that permeates this place. Its more than just a title. These people are true companions! They even call one another shield siblings. I feel any one of them would die for each other. And they all look to Kodlak for guidance with respect. I'll detail each of them more in other entries. But for now we need rest. Vilkas' younger brother Farkas just led us to the barracks. Lucien hit his bed harder than I've ever seen and is snoring to wake the dead. The training really exhausted him. He must have had a very comfortable life in the Imperial City. I wonder why he left it. He's not accustomed to labor or exercise at all. Farkas says we may have a paying job tomorrow. I hope I can live up to their expectations.


	9. Ysgramor's Legacy

**Entry Fifteen**

Lucien and I are taking to the training at Jorrvaskr quite vigorously. We spar with the dummies and with each other when not taking care of the day's labors. But even in the simple act of sharpening and polishing of weapons I feel a strength building in my limbs. At the end of the day we eat our fill and rest. It is also the only part of the day I have any time to write in my journal. So I'll take some time here to record my impressions of Jorrvaskr and the Companions themselves.

**Jorrvaskr**

In the Merethic Era it is said that Ysgramor was among the first men to settle in what would one day be called Skyrim, after sailing from the ancient continent of Atmora. In a time it was ruled by the Snow Elves, the early Nord settlements were sacked and their inhabitants killed, enslaved, or driven out. Ysgramor was among those who escaped, swearing vengeance against the tyranny of the elves. He returned from Atmora with five hundred companions, and with them rallied the Nords to rebel against the Snow Elves, effectively driving them out and becoming the first king of Skyrim. They built Jorrvaskr as their mead hall, and in time the city of Whiterun grew up around it. It is said that the roof of Jorrvaskr was actually made from the very hull of the ship Ysgramor sailed in from Atmora to Skyrim! The Companions of today fight for glory and honor in the name of that legacy left behind by Ysgramor's original five hundred, and in the name of the first kingdom of men in Tamriel. 

**The Skyforge**

Overlooking the mead hall of Jorrvaskr is a great stone carving of an eagle. And beneath the stone bird's watchful gaze is the Skyforge. Legend says it was here even before Ysgramor and his five hundred companions came, and had existed even before the time of the Snow Elves themselves. It was said the Snow Elves were frightened of the forge and the statue and kept their distance. So Ysgramor had Jorrvaskr built at the foot of the great forge, where many a weapon of Skyforge steel has been made for great warriors since. Today, only a full fledged Companion may be given a blade of true Skyforge steel. 

**Kodlak Whitemane, Our Harbinger**

According to the rules of the Companions, there is no true leader among the warriors of Jorrvaskr. And there hasn't been since Ysgramor himself. Each warrior is given the freedom to walk their own path, and so long as their actions reflect the honor and strength of Jorrvaskr, they are welcome. However, a sort of hierarchy does exist. And at the top of that hierarchy is the Harbinger of the Companions, Kodlak Whitemane. He is among the eldest, mightiest, and wisest of the Companions. Every warrior of Jorrvaskr looks to him not for leadership, but for advice and counseling. I asked how he had come to join the Companions. 

"Like most of our band, I found this family after losing my own." He said as he recounted his past. "I traveled the length and breadth of this land, learning all I could of the sword and the axe. I was just a boy, but I had the fire of a man in my heart. Eventually, my body caught up to my spirit. My predecessor, Askar, found me in Hammerfell. I was serving as bodyguard for some weak-necked lord out there. He brought me back here, and I realized... that I was actually coming home. I work to bring honor to this family, and to the family that I lost. For my mother, my father, and my grandfather. For all my Shield-Siblings. Family and honor. That's what it means to be one of us, boy." 

Though my time in the Companions has been brief, I already look to Kodlak with the same respect the others do. I feel his guidance not only in his words, but in his example. If the day's labors are done, and weariness doesn't take him he will favor Lucien and I with a tale of one of his past adventures. He is also the only one of the Companions in whom I have confided my magic, and the runes that glow in my hand when I call upon it. 

"There are those who believe that mage craft is not the way of the Companions," He told me at first. "But many have forgotten that Ysgramor had many a clever ally who lent their magical talents to aid him in claiming this land and building this kingdom. But remember, to live as a Companion is to walk the path of a warrior. We meet challenges head on, and trust first in our own strength. Be sure you do not rely upon magic for what can be solved by the strength of your two hands."  
As far as my mysterious runes, he had no insight. "I have witnessed great and terrible power in my day. But not even in my journeys outside of Skyrim have I seen magic manifest in such a manner. You might inquire at the College of Winterhold if your travels take you there. But you have also been summoned by the Greybeards. They carry in their voices the wisdom of the ages. If you seek answers to questions of the power within you, they are the most likely to possess them." 

We are still a ways off from having enough gold to make the journey to High Hrothgar, and I am eager to learn what answers the Greybeards might have for me. Yet I am also grateful of the wisdom imparted to me daily by our great Harbinger. 

**The Circle**

Just below the Harbinger in terms of rank and experience are The Circle. So named in honor of the captains who led Ysgramor's original five hundred. They oversee the training and initiation of new members, as well as parse out the contracts commissioned to the Companions. 

**Skjor**

The most senior member of the Circle, many of the Companions whisper that Skjor is the most likely to one day succeed Kodlak as Harbinger. Though he is quick to remind them to keep such speculation to themselves. He is a stern and taciturn individual, who rarely speaks of anything personal. Though one night after a few tankards of mead I was able to coax him into telling me how he came to join the Companions. 

"I learned the ways of the blade in the Great War. Nearly lost my life outside the Imperial City. I came home to Skyrim when it was all over. But I wasn't much good at anything other than fighting. Wandered around as a blade for hire. Was a damned good one, too. The money was good, and the women were good, and the drinks were good. But I was losing myself. My heart. I was lucky the Companions found me. Now there's a reason to be fighting. The honor of my brothers and sisters is worth more than coin. Of course, the money is still good. And the drinks!" 

If he seems harsh, I remind myself he only does what he does for the honor of the Companions. He challenges each and every new recruit to rise to the challenge of carrying the weight of the guild's history. 

**Aela the Huntress**

The fierce red haired huntress was among the first of the Companions I met fighting the giant outside Whiterun. She is almost as solitary as Skjor. Almost. She is always happy to lend tips on how I might improve my Marksmanship. She is also the only one whose company Skjor seeks out when he is in need of a Shield-Sibling when going out on a job. Most of the jobs she parses out or takes care of herself involve hunting wild and dangerous beasts when they threaten local settlements. She is the latest in a long line of Companions, and was more than glad to share the story of her joining. 

"My mother was a Companion. And her mother. And all the women in my family, back to Hrotti Blackblade. I stayed with my father in the woods until I was old enough for my Trial. We hunted everything there was to hunt... Good training. Ma didn't live long enough to see me join, but I fight to honor her and all my Shield-Sisters through time." 

**Vilkas** Vilkas has been a Companion nearly his whole life, along with his younger brother Farkas. They were raised in Jorrvaskr from their boyhood and there have been no others to join at a younger age. "To hear Farkas tell it, our father raised us here as happy pups, running around biting knees. I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit. We were brought here by Jergen. Whether he was our father or not, I don't care. He left to fight in the Great War and never came back. So he's not my problem anymore. We've been here as long as either of us can remember." A practical man, he seldom shares the rhetoric of his fellows about the glorious legacy of the Companions. "You'll hear some of the brighter faces around here talk about honor and glory. I've got nothing against it, but for me, the promise of coin is what feeds my blade. Wherever someone in Skyrim doesn't feel up to defending their own honor, we'll take up their burden." To him being a Companion is more of a job than anything. And knowing he has known nothing else from the time he was a boy, I can't say I blame him for his honest if bleak outlook. 

**Farkas**

The youngest member of the Circle, and younger brother to Vilkas. There are those in the Companions who believe him dimwitted, but I find him honest and straightforward like any Companion should be. He shares much the same story of his upbringing as Vilkas, though without his brother's bitterness. 

"Vilkas and I have been here since we were little whelps. Our father, Jergen, raised us here. Even Vignar couldn't remember Companions younger than us! The Companions are my family. We fight so that other people don't have to. We bring honor and glory to ourselves and each other." 

**Our Fellow Companions**

Then below the Circle are the rest of the Companions, both full members and new-bloods like myself and Lucien. 

**Torvar**

A jovial Nord, Torvar has shown he has the greatest endurance of the Companions. If not in combat, then most definitely in drink. His reason for joining the Companions is a simple one. 

"A man of my station has many debts. I'm not much use at labor or learning, but I can throw a punch with the best of 'em. The Companions let me fight for gold, and so I fight." 

**Njada Stonearm**

The Companions have proven to be open and eager to revel in the accomplishments of one another. The elder members seek to guide the younger ones to glory, and the younger members seek to help each other rise through the ranks as shield siblings. But to every rule, there is an exception. Njada is Jorrvaskr's exception. Since our joining, Njada has been openly resentful that the Circle accepted two milk-drinkers into the Companions. The others tell me not to take her words to heart. She has few friends within the companions, and that is how she prefers it. In fact when Lucien and I first strode through the doors of Jorrvaskr, she was engaged in a brawl with Athis over some minor disagreement. She does however have great respect for both Skjor and Aela, and is often seeking to prove her strength to them. She brushes off any questions I have for her, suspicious I am just looking to use that information to rise through the ranks faster. When I asked her why she joined the Companions, she replied curtly, "So I wouldn't have to answer stupid questions from idiots." 

**Athis**

Athis is one of the few Companions who is not a Nord. The only others are myself, Lucien, and Ria. A dark elf originally from Morrowind, he says very little of his past before coming to Skyrim. Despite being a Dunmer, he is fiercely loyal to the ideals of the Companions, and to the Nordic way of life in general. 

"Being a Companion means signing on for the Nord ideas of how to live your life. Honor, battle, glory, all that. 'Even an elf can be born with the heart of a Nord,' Skjor said when I joined. I think he meant it as a compliment. This is not play-acting, here. We are the true spirit of Skyrim. Honor is in our blood, death in our hearts. If you seek either, you've found the right place." 

**Ria**

Formerly the newest and youngest of the Companions before Lucien and I joined. Ria is an Imperial like Lucien, but was raised here in Skyrim. She has always been enamored with the tales of the Companions and has longed to count herself among them since her childhood. When she speaks of it, her eyes glimmer with the reverence of one who was raised on their stories of honor and glory. "I've wanted to be with them since I was a little girl. Haven't you heard the stories of Kodlak and Skjor fighting off a hundred-and-one Orc berserkers? Skjor says it was more like forty, but he's just being modest. Where else would I want to be but here? Learning from them, fighting at their sides. This group... this family... this band... this is the best thing I've ever been a part of. The oldest fighting group in Skyrim, and nothing but glory from Ysgramor's day to our own. To be counted in that line is a bit of immortality. Even if I never see Sovngarde, I'll have that much." Like us, Ria is not yet a full Companion, as she has not undergone her trial. She trains most days with Vilkas to practice her skills with the greatsword. One would think a woman of her size would have a difficult time with such a heavy unwieldy weapon. But there is a hidden strength in her arms, and her diligence and respect for Vilkas' skill is clear in each swing of her blade. **Vignar Gray-Mane**

The eldest of all the Companions, even older than Kodlak. Though he never ascended to the ranks of the Circle in his time, he is still a respected Companion. Though he claims his days of fighting and winning glory are long behind him, Kodlak assures me and anyone else we would be wise to listen to any wisdom he chooses to share. "Any warrior that gets to be old is either fearsome or a coward." Kodlak would say. "I'll let you find out which Vignar is." 

Because he no longer goes out on jobs, Vignar has become something of a historian and lore keeper of the Companions. Lucien and I love listening to him recite the guild's history when our training allows the time. Despite this, he claims to remember little of how or why he joined the Companions. 

"When you get to be my age, you don't remember why you did much of anything. Only that it happened." 

The Gray-Manes are an old and respected clan within Whiterun, and currently in a long standing feud with the Battle-Born clan. According to Vignar, the two families were once friends. But relationships between them have soured since the rebellion began. The Gray-Manes are in favor of the Stormcloaks, and Ulfric's claim to the High King's throne, while the Battle-Borns remain loyal to the Empire. Aside from that, he also blames the Battle-Borns obscene wealth for driving a wedge between them. 

"The Empire used to mean something more. Nowadays you can grow quite rich if you're willing to spit on honor and tradition." Then he will sometimes add with a sigh "There is no more bitter enemy than an old friend.

**Non-Companions**

Jorrvaskr is also home to a few that are not Companions, but are their friends and allies who serve them in some way. 

**Eorlund Gray-Mane**

Vignar's younger brother, and the master smith to the Companions. A Gray-Mane has worked the Skyforge since Ysgramor's day. Eorlund is the latest in that line, and some claim him to be the greatest smith in all Skyrim. Though we have not spoken much, I have gotten a chance to observe his work during the day, and marvel at the Skyforge steel weapons he's made. I can hardly wait for the day I have the honor of claiming a Skyforge steel sword of my very own. Ria has warned me not to bother him too much. Aside from the heavy duty of forging weapons and armor for the Companions, he and his wife Fralia have two sons fighting in the Stormcloak rebellion. He won't say as much, but I know the worry for their well-being weighs on him with every swing of his hammer. I pray they may return home to their parents one day. 

**Tilma the Haggard**

The caretaker of Jorrvaskr, Tilma oversees the cooking and cleaning of Jorrvaskr. Certainly not a small task when looking after the home to such a boisterous and rowdy band. But she does so day by day with a smile and a kind voice. She keeps to herself mostly, but even Torvar is careful not to create more work for her unnecessarily. While some in the Companions consider work in the kitchens to be a menial task, I look forward to when I get to help her during my daily chores. She's somehow learned of my fondness for honey-nut treats and usually has one saved for me when we are finished. 

**Brill**

Brill is one of many to have had his life saved by a Companion. Not from the axe of a bandit, or the jaws of wild beast, but from the Bottle.

"I had a bad time a few years back, and I turned to drink. But Vignar, he wouldn't let me stay weak. I'd be dead if not for him. Took me in and helped me turn my life around." 

He now helps care for Vignar in his twilight years. Though Vignar often jokingly refers to him as his manservant, the two speak with the familiar air of old friends. 


	10. Our First Job

**Entry Fifteen**

I painted my first shield today. It's considered a rite of passage for "new-bloods." I painted mine with the triple spiral. It's a Breton symbol in remembrance of the teachings of Phynasters stride: to always take short strides in your journey. Never move so fast that you forget to watch and listen for the messages and wisdom of the road. I think Kodlak approved of my choice. 

"May it keep you on an honorable path then boy." He said. 

Lucien painted his own with arrows so "the enemy will know where to strike." That garnered a laugh from even Eorlund. He admitted he had wanted to paint the sigil of house Flavius to honor his family, but he lacks the talent. 

Kodlak encouraged him by saying "the steady hand of a painter is a worthy skill to be practiced at with the same diligence as the sword. Continue honing your skills, and perhaps your next shield will better reflect the fire in your heart." That seemed to lift Lucien's spirits. 

Farkas assigned us our first job. A local named Amren told us his deceased father's sword was stolen by bandits. He managed to track down their hideout, but his wife is sick with worry at the mere thought of him going after the criminals himself. Still he says his father fed his entire family with the gold he made wielding that sword and it sickens him to think of it collecting dust in some thief's trophy room. So he's turned to the companions to retrieve it. Lucien and I are heading out now. I can't wait to test out my new shield!

**Entry Sixteen**

What a day! Amren's information was right. We followed his directions to a cave called White River Watch. As fortune would have it, their leader was an unreliable eccentric named Hajvarr Iron-Hand, whose fearsome brute strength was matched only by his strange behaviors as a leader. This bandit chief who had orchestrated the theft of Amren's family sword employed such bizarre tactics as stationing his blind uncle Ulfr as the hideout's watchman, and attempting to force his men to train a captive wolf. The gang had just suffered one bout of mutiny from some of Hajvarr's men that had had enough of his outlandish leadership. And from what Lucien and I gathered from eavesdropping as we crept through the cave, Hajvarr was about to suffer another. 

Disorganized as they were, they were unprepared for our infiltration. By disguising his voice, Lucien was able to get us past Ulfr. And I found the release to their "pet" wolf's cage. It tore at them ferociously and by the time they managed to put it down, we were already upon them. Then we ascended to the overlook outside the cave where Hajvarr challenged me to one on one combat. He wielded a mighty hammer that I could not defend against. My new shield! Splintered! But his hammer was no match for my newly found powers or my rage at his wanton destruction of my newest prized possession! 

With my Thu'um I staggered him. With spell I brought him to his knees. And with blade I ended his villainy. He will not terrorize the people of Whiterun ever again! We found Amren's sword in his store chest, and claimed two other prizes besides. On the hammer he wielded, Lucien was able to discern the meanings of its strange markings. It's an enchanted weapon called Shieldbreaker, said to shatter any defense. My poor shield never stood a chance. The hammer is far too heavy for either of us to wield, but it should make for a fine trophy. A memento of our first job together as Companions! Well companions in training as Skjor likes to remind us. But the other treasure is something we can make use of: a pair of snow white gauntlets I've chosen to call "The Iron-Hand Gauntlets." They have an enchantment of their own it seems. When worn, they increase their wearers physical strength. I had Lucien test it on my breastplate. No wonder Hajvarr could swing that hammer with such force! Lucien could win any fight in the ring with those on his side! We return to Whiterun now victorious!


	11. A Name to Match Your Deeds

**Entry Seventeen**

Amren was overjoyed to have his father's sword back. As he held the gleaming blade to his face, he almost wept to have this connection to his father back in his hands. It reminded me of the ache I felt when I remembered I would never see my own father's little book of Phynaster's teachings again. I knew then we could not accept Amren's gold for the job. Lucien was of the same mind.

"Here, here." He said. "The bond between a father and son is sacred. Worth far more than any gold. We're just glad to reunite you with a piece of your family's legacy."

Amren insisted we were deserving of some type of reward. So instead of gold he favored us with training. He taught to us a favored sword and shield technique his father had passed down to him. Farkas was displeased when we told him we had refused payment.

"We're not running a bloody charity here." He growled. But Kodlak admonished him.

"Farkas, these new-bloods have demonstrated something you would do well to remember. To perfect one's skill in the way of the warrior is a treasure to outlast all the gold of this world, and is the true path of the warriors of Jorvasskr. Their payment was fair, and their deed brings honor to the Companions."

We feasted in the mead hall tonight with the others where they insisted we regale them with the tale of our adventure. I still doubt I am Dragonborn as some in Whiterun have claimed. But as we reveled together in the telling of our story, I almost felt like one of the heroes of song!

"Lauriel doesn't suit you my friend." Torvar said, putting his arm around my shoulder after his third tankard of ale. "A tale like that deserves a more heroic name to go with it. From now on, you're Kieran the Iron-Hand!" 

I admit I like the sound of it. And if I am intent on remaining out of Aunt Lavinia's grasp, perhaps it's time I leave my father's name behind. At least for now. I rest tonight but awaken tomorrow as Kieran Iron-Hand!

**Entry Eighteen**

At last! A few bounties on wild beasts and one den of bandits, and Lucien and I finally have enough septims to make our way to Ivarstead. And then to High Hrothgar! We bade farewell for now to our new companions. Vilkas told us to return "with stories worthy of this mead hall eh?" I know we will. 

I understand now what you meant Uncle when you said a man doesn't truly know himself until he leaves home. I don't know who I am yet, but since fleeing from Aunt Lavinia to Skyrim, a new vision of me is slowly coming into focus. There are still holes and questions in that vision, but I am proud of what's taking shape. I hope one day you will be too. The last of our supplies are packed. We set out today!

...Change in plans. We were stopped at the gate by a pair of Alik'r warriors from Hammerfell. They are searching, quite aggressively for a Redguard woman with a scar. But they wouldn't tell us why. They wouldn't even give us a name. Just that they were fairly certain she was hiding somewhere in Whiterun. I tokenly told them I would keep my eye out for her, and they said they would await word in Rorikstead since they're forbidden entry to the city. 

But I don't need to search. I know who they're looking for. Their description matched Saadia, the serving maiden at the Bannered Mare. Just last night she served me a mug of Honningbrew mead, and quietly packed three honey-nut treats for me out of her own pocket when I told her we were leaving today. I don't know what sort of trouble she's mixed up in. But I can't in good conscience leave Whiterun while she's being pursued by dangerous men. The Greybeards have waited this long. What difference will another day or two make?


	12. In My Time of Need

**Entry Nineteen**

The news of the Alik'r's search has Saadia shaken. When I told her, she led me to her loft in the inn to speak with me privately. No sooner had we entered then she pulled a dagger from her hip and brandished it at me, backing into the corner and demanding to know if I was working for them. I swore I wasn't and just wanted to know if she was in trouble. 

She confessed she's not who the people of Whiterun believe she is. Her real name is Iman, a noble of House Suda from Hammerfell. She was forced to flee from her homeland when she spoke out publicly against the Aldmeri Dominion. These Alik'r are assassins sent to capture her and return her to Hammerfell for execution. She begged for my help, but she needn't have asked. I know all too well what she's been through. 

She knows the Alik'r are being led by a ruthless man named Kematu, and believes if we could be rid of him, the Alik'r would return home. She doesn't know where he's hiding but we do have one lead. One of the Alik'r was caught trying to sneak into the city and is being held in the Dragonsreach dungeon. We'll see if we can get him to give up his leader.

**Entry Twenty**

This Kematu sounds more vicious by the minute. The Alik'r we spoke to confessed he's been abandoned to his fate. Even if he were to somehow escape the dungeons to return to his employer, he would be killed on sight. Kematu expects his Alik'r to be the best of the best, and he was not. Because he was "clumsy" enough to be captured, his fellows have left him to rot. Where is the loyalty? Such callousness from his own Shield-brothers? The thought of it makes me sick. 

In exchange for paying his fine to be set free, he willingly gave up Kematu's location. He's holed up with some bandits in a cave west of the city called Swindler's Den. He assures us to seek out Kematu is a death sentence. Lucien also had something to say about the danger we're facing.

"These aren't undisciplined bandits, or lumbering draugr we're talking about here. These are Alik'r warriors. They live and die by the sword! And this Kematu sounds like a right vicious brute." He also has his reservations about Saadia in particular. "What do we really know about her besides her word? Not to mention why would hardened Alik'r be on a retrieval mission for the Aldmeri Dominion? They HATE the Dominion."

Perhaps I was a bit too harsh with my words, but I assured him there are some whose only loyalty is to gold. Even as I write, the cold and calculating eyes of Aunt Lavinia are so clear in my mind. Lies drip from her lips like oil as she spouts platitudes of loyalty and service to the Empire while lining the palm behind her back with Thalmor gold. 

Lucien still worries we're outmatched. He suggested asking some of the Companions for backup, but we can't risk it. Not even from our shield-siblings. The more people who know Saadia's identity, the more danger she's in. No we need to handle this on our own.


	13. Where the Road Splits

**Entry Twenty-One**

Uncle Dravus, today I must learn a harsh lesson. It is not an easy thing to know who to trust. I want to believe Saadia. I want to help her because whatever the truth may be, we are the same. We are fugitives of our homeland trying to carve out a new life for ourselves here. But Saadia, what did you do? Who are you really?

We infiltrated Swindler's den, fighting our way through the bandits holed up there. Either through bribery or coercion, Kematu had persuaded them to allow his men to reside in the cave with the bandits as lookouts. Lucien and I were able to surprise the bandits in their own hideout through stealth. I'm getting quite adept at disabling foes with an arrow to the knee. Never would have guessed I would use your teachings from our hunts in this manner. The bandits were one thing, but the Alik'r lived up to their reputation. They were laying in ambush in the back of the cave behind a waterfall. 

No sooner had we passed through the curtain of water then we found ourselves surrounded by a dozen armed Redguard men, their curved swords leveled at us. But rather than kill us immediately, Kematu ordered his men to hold. He claimed we had proven our strength and he wished to speak with us. We had little choice in the matter. When confronted with our reason for coming, he laughed in my face. Kematu and his men are no Aldmeri hired assassins. They are in the service of the noble houses of Taneth, rulers in Hammerfell where Saadia is wanted for treason. 

According to Kematu, Saadia or Iman, whoever she really is sold out her city to the Dominion at the height of the Great War. Were it not for her betrayal, Taneth could have held its own in the war. But Saadia gave the Aldmeri Dominion crucial information that allowed them to take it. Kematu claimed the resistance is alive and well in Hammerfell. And in the spirit of justice, he made us a proposition. He would allow us to leave Swindler's Den where we can make use of the trust Saadia has placed in us. Since she won't leave the safety of the city walls, Kematu asked that we lure her outside to the city stables where he can capture her without interference from the guards. I agreed if only so Lucien and I could leave with our lives and think of what to do. Lucien feels Kematu may have the right of it.

"You have to admit, it's a more plausible story than the one Saadia gave us. And if it is true, that makes her a traitor at best, and a Thalmor spy at worst!"

His words ring true. Lucien is an intelligent sort, and one who's heart is in the right place. But I still see Saadia's eyes pleading to me for help. My eyes must have looked the same to you when you decided to hide me in that empty grain barrel in the back of a merchant's wagon leaving the Imperial City.

Once we were outside in the brisk air of the Whiterun plains, I knelt and prayed to Phynaster to guide me. In my mind's eye I can only see where my path splits in two. But I feel no guidance, no whisper as to which path to take. I wait and listen, but no answer comes. What should I do? I pray I figure it out before we reach the city where Saadia and Kematu await.


	14. Misplaced Trust

**Entry Twenty-Two**

When we returned to the Bannered Mare, Saadia was eager to hear news of the Alik'r. I told her we had met Kematu. But before I told her the rest I demanded some answers. There was fear and defiance in her eyes, and she didn't ask any questions. It was like she had been expecting this. I asked why the Alik'r were really after her. 

"Well damn." She said flatly. "You talked to him didn't you. What did he tell you?" I relayed what Kematu had told me. "And?" She asked. "What do you think of me now? Now that you know I gave Taneth to the Dominion on a silver platter?"  
I was motionless in the face of her cold matter-of-fact speech. I simply asked her why.

"What can I say that would make it alright?" She demanded. "I betrayed my kin to the enemy. In the eyes of my homeland that makes me a traitor. The 'noble' houses of Taneth protect their precious honor at all costs. Even if that means sending Alik'r assassins to butcher one of their own. Even if it means turning a blind eye to the honorable Lord Suda's disgusting advances on his young niece." She got very quiet then and turned her gaze away, as if she were looking past me to something far off.  
"They all knew. Every lord, lady, and servant knew what went on in that house, and diligently followed their orders. They knew what to do if she wasn't a good little girl. If she didn't keep her mouth shut like her uncle wanted her to. And Kematu..."  
She paused and her fingers wandered to her face, just below her eye where her scar was. "Kematu was the most 'honorable' of them all." A single tear ran down her face.  
"Only the kindly Khajiit maid cared about her. Listened to everything she said. 'Do you want to leave this place?' She would say. 'This one knows a way.'" She took a long pause again before saying almost to herself. "I didn't know she was Thalmor. Not until it was too late and the city was burning around me." Then she was quiet. I could say nothing. I didn't know what to say. What to think. Furiously she wiped her tears away.

"I don't have time for this. Did you kill the Alik'r or not?"

Who are you Saadia? Was this the truth? Or was it another manipulation? More lies? She'd lied to me once already. What was to stop her from doing so again? She might say anything if it meant securing my help. But I can lie too.

"We weren't able to defeat them." I said. "I'm sorry. They're coming for you. They found a way into the city. We need to get you out of here. We have a horse waiting for you at the stables."

She trembled in fright at the thought of being taken, and moaned that she would have to flee and start over again. But because I said it, she trusted me. 

She followed me out of the inn, through the city, out the front gates, all the way to the stables without question. Because I had told her it was safe. 

"I really thought you would be able to save me." She said with downcast eyes. She had faith in me even now.

We descended the city steps all the way to the stables. Then we rounded the corner and came face to face with Kematu.

"We meet at last my Dear Lady." He crowed.

"What is this?" She demanded of me. "What's going on?"

My only reply. "See Saadia. I can lie too."


	15. My Choice

"Come now. You didn't expect to manipulate people forever did you?" Kematu taunted. "Your luck had to run out some time." As he spoke I saw him slyly pull a scroll from behind his back and saw the magical glow on it. I've seen guards of the Imperial city use magic scrolls like it before, meant to immobilize criminals for arrest. Before he prepared it, I drew my sword and stood between him and Saadia.

"First I want you to answer this." I said. He looked to me calmly but I could see the scroll at the ready. "How did Saadia get her scar?" 

He had no answer for me. But his eyes told me all I needed to know.

"FUS!" I shouted. Kematu staggered, dropping his scroll. He reached for it, but Lucien kicked it away. Kematu drew his curved greatsword and with lightning and blade I met him in combat. Truly he must have been skilled even among the Alik'r. But he was still shaken by my thu'um and against two Companions in training. On the plains of Whiterun he fell. When the dust settled, Saadia was furious at my deception.

"You liar! How could you do that to me?"

Lucien was equally incensed by her outrage. "Madam, need I remind you that you roped us into your troubles by deceiving us first! My friend here has just given you, an admitted fugitive, your safety and your freedom! I think a show of gratitude is in order."

She folded her arms. "That's true. Still, you could have warned me you were leading me into a trap."

I replied "And you should have told us the truth from the start."

"Would you have helped me if I had?" She asked.

I looked into her eyes and found them as inscrutable as they had been in the Bannered Mare. 

"I suppose now we'll never know." Was my answer. She smiled a sly half smile.

"Well played boy. Well played." She nodded to Kematu's fallen form. "I think you've earned a reward. Kematu's blade, it's called Yokuda's Edge. It's a treasure of Hammerfell that carries the heat of the Alik'r Desert. As Iman of the noble house of Suda, I bestow it upon you, my rescuers. Wield it on your journey. Or sell it. It should fetch you a nice price. I really don't care. As far as I'm concerned, you've earned it."

"What will you do now?" I asked her.

"For now I'll keep up my ruse here. Stop by the Bannered Mare sometime when your travels take you back to Whiterun. I'll buy you boys a drink." Then without warning she placed a kiss on my cheek. "See you around Handsome."

Lucien and I both watched her go and didn't say a word until she was well out of earshot.

"If anyone cares," Lucien grumbled "You could have clued ME in on your little plan. That was a risky move! I thought for sure you were going to turn her in." 

I confessed I hadn't even been sure of what I was going to do until I did it. 

"Well," He went on. "In the future, I'd appreciate a little heads up before you decide to lock blades with a notorious Alik'r warrior." He looked back to where Saadia was just disappearing back inside the city gates. "I'd hate to be on that one's bad side. She's a cunning one to be sure. Still if you say you trust her, then I respect your judgment my friend."

I thanked him for his trust, and his friendship. The truth is even now I'm still not sure if the choice I made was the right one. But it was _my_ choice, and I will stand by it. 

Tommorow Lucien and I set out for High Hrothgar at last!


	16. Ancestral Worship

**Entry Twenty-Three**

This morning before we set out, Lucien gifted me with an odd present. Something he's been meaning to give me. He called it a "Dwemer Resonant Sphere." Some long lost Dwemer technology his father gave him before he left home. He says when I rub it, the sphere will resonate with its twin which he has in his possession. That will allow us to find one another if we're ever separated. A very handy device indeed!

"Hopefully we won't have to use it too often." Lucien assured me. "I'll stick to you like... like um... Oh I don't know. Something sticky!"

"Like glaze on a sweetroll?" I added.

"Yep! That's what I'll do."

Our journey during the day was uneventful save for a few wolves and by the GODS more skeevers! Trepidation of my newly found magic notwithstanding, I'm grateful I now have a tool to put the filthy vermin down from a distance. I hate drawing close to them, seeing their diseased scabby flesh, their whiskered, wriggling, snarling noses, and their eyes! Those beady unsettling eyes!

Night fell and we could hear the beginning of rainfall. We saw a barrow up the hill beside the path. Neither of us relish the idea of entering another tomb, but at the very least we knew it would be dry and warm enough for a fire and shelter. But when we entered the first chamber we found a fire already built, and an excitable Nord sitting fitfully beside it. We gave him quite a fright when he approached, but after he had calmed down, he told us the reason for his presence. His name is Golldir and this is his family crypt "Hillgrund's Tomb." 

"Can you help me?" He asked. "He's in there doing Gods know what with the bodies of my dead relatives!" When we asked who was in the tomb, he told us of an old acquaintance of the family. A Dunmer named Vals Varen. Golldir's family and this elf have never seen eye to eye, and Vals has allowed this grudge to drive him to necromancy. Golldir claimed the elf was in the tomb now, using the bodies of the deceased to increase his power. Golldir's aunt Agna had gone in after him some time before we had arrived, but Golldir had remained behind.

"You let your aunt go into a draugr infested crypt to face a crazed necromancer alone?!" Lucien asked in shock, and I had to agree.

Golldir admitted to his shame that he was terrified of the crypt due to a harrowing experience when he was a boy. His father had left him and his siblings when they were young, and in a drunken rage had locked them in the tomb. They had been forced to survive for three days on the offerings left for their dead before his aunt Agna had found him. He didn't have the courage to go in after his aunt, but his worry for her outweighed his fear now, so long as we promised to go in with him. 

I agreed to help him gladly, hoping we weren't already too late to help his aunt.

"Oh lovely." Lucien muttered under his breath. "More draugr. And a necromancer to make sure there are even more draugr! Splendid. Just splendid!"

I'm sad to say we were too late! After fighting our way through a half dozen draugr, Golldir found Agna dead on the tomb floor just before the door to the main burial chamber. But there was no time to grieve. Not while Vals Varen continued his foul work. Golldir's family needed to be laid back to rest, and Agna needed to be avenged.

Uncle you told me of the horrors you had witnessed in your time in the legion. What you had seen when facing necromancy. But seeing its foul work before my eyes today, you did not condemn it harshly enough. To use the honored dead, someone's deceased loved ones in such a manner is repulsive! And unforgivable!

We found the door to main burial chamber barred, but Golldir remembered Agna telling him of a secret passage that might lead us to Vals. It's a place they built to inter disgraced members of their family. We encountered more draugr within, but it did lead us through a secret door through one of the sarchophogi. Right to the main burial chamber where we faced Vals Varen. 

We found the black robed Dunmer on the raised steps of the main antechamber where he looked down on us. When Golldir swore to put an end to his evil so his family may find rest in Sovengarde, Varen sneered that Sovengarde was a myth, and that we three would join Golldir's family in service to him. 

He was a clever enemy, using magic to disappear into a bubble of darkness, only to reappear on the other side of the chamber. He called forth his undead servants and hurled great spikes of ice at us. We fought no less than twenty draugr. Golldir fought with shield and axe, and with righteous fury. Lucien's fire set the draugr ablaze. In the heat of battle I discovered a new spell! With a small prayer to the divines to bless my magic I've learned to consecrate my blade so that it burns the undead with holy fire.  
At last we were able to flank Vals Varen when next he appeared. 

With a shout, I staggered him before he could slip away, and with my lightning I sapped him of his magical power. We closed in and put an end to his evil.

Golldir thanked us and asked to be left to lay his ancestors, and his dear brave aunt Agna to rest. We offered to help, but he insisted it was something he had to do alone. But he said we were welcome to rest tonight beside his fire. He says he'll stay here awhile and live off the wild game in the woods nearby. He needs time to mourn and reflect. As for Kieran Iron-Hand and Lucien Flavius, we set out for Ivarstead again in the morning. 


	17. The Wandering Swordsman

**Entry Twenty-Four**  
Lucien and I have become a trio! 

Early this morning I left camp to pray by the riverside. Just as I had finished imploring Phynaster for his guidance and safety on the road, I opened my eyes to take in the view. The riverside boasted a unique ruin. Some sort of keep built right into the cliffside. It looked completely abandoned and I considered it might be worth exploring. No sooner had I thought this, then a figure emerged from the keep. 

An Altmer wearing the green and gold armor of the Aldmeri Dominion. The elf had slithered outside to wash some clothes or rags in the river. I kept low and watched from the brush to get a better look at what he was doing. It wasn't clothes he was washing, but tools. Bloody tools of torture! From my vantage point I could see blood on his boots and hands as well. The Thalmor were torturing someone inside this abandoned keep! When the Altmer had returned inside and I knew it was safe to emerge I ran back to the barrow to rouse Lucien. He agreed that it wouldn't befit Companions to leave someone in the hands of the Thalmor, so we sized up our options.

The keep is abandoned and well out of the way of any passersby that might take notice of the comings and goings. I had only seen the guard by complete chance because I had gone out of my way to find a scenic view to pray from.  
This told us whatever the Thalmor were doing inside was a secret mission. That meant fewer agents to preserve their privacy. The Altmer's mannerisms and slipshod awareness of his surroundings as I observed him washing his filthy tools also suggested a restlessness. These Thalmor have been here for some time. Long enough to feel confident they won't be discovered, and impatient to leave. These insights would be used to our advantage. They would be ill prepared.

As I sharpened my blade, I recalled the Stormcloak prisoner I had seen on the road being taken to his fate by Imperial soldiers. Perhaps these Thalmor had just such a prisoner. Another man or woman being tortured for refusing to give up his god and traditions. Or being tortured to give up his fellows. I could do nothing for that man. Fugitive or not, I could not bring myself to spill the blood of men wearing the uniform you and mother wore so proudly. But the Thalmor deserve no such respect. So long as I draw breath I will not suffer to leave anyone in the hands of these vipers.

"Right then." Lucien said after his blade was sharpened. "Let's go on a snake hunt."

We descended the stone steps of the abandoned keep quietly and carefully. Thanks to its position so close to the river, much of the keep has been partially submerged, and the rest of it is slick from the water. The skeletons with Imperial gear and the cells suggest this was some kind of Imperial prison at one point. 

Down a narrow corridor at the bottom of another set of steps I caught sight of the Thalmor agent I had spied before. He was sitting down to a meal of rations, his fingers still slick with the blood of his victim. I put an arrow in his neck before he could spot us and alert whatever accomplices he had lurking deeper in.

We reached the final cell and found what the Thalmor were hiding here. A lone man shackled to the wall in appalling condition! Stripped from the waist up, he wore the marks of Thalmor cruelty all across his chest, arms, and back. But there was courage in his eyes and defiance in his voice. Mistaking us for one of his captors (probably due to the more elven features of my face) he swore to kill every last one of us. 

After assuring him we were here to help, we unchained him and I did what little I could with my healing magic to close his wounds and alleviate his pain to make our escape easier. But he had another request. He said there was one more Thalmor agent in the keep's barracks, and this elf had taken his sword. This sword was the very reason he had been captured and taken to this miserable hole to be tortured. Something about this sword held answers the Thalmor wanted.

"This isn't me being sentimental." He said. "The Thalmor wanted that sword. And if they want it, they shouldn't have it."

We cornered the last remaining Thalmor who was no match for the three of us. Even unarmed and injured, our new companion is a giant of a man with a physique that betrays a lifetime of training. He was glad to have his blade back and to have had some well deserved vengeance on his captor. We found the rest of his effects in a nearby trunk: A war-bow of fine make, and a steel set of armor with tiger embellishments across the breastplate.

Once we were out of the prison and he could breathe his first bit of fresh air in Gods know how long, he thanked us for his rescue and told us his name is Kaidan. He said he is not a man comfortable with debt, and he is a skilled warrior. If we would have him, he would be grateful to accompany us until his debt is repaid. Be our "sword and our shield." I'm happy to have him along, and Lucien agrees Kaidan seems like "a reliable enough chap." 

For now Kaidan needs a proper meal, so I plan to hunt and let him recuperate by our fire. Then we'll set out for Ivarstead.

**Entry Twenty-Five**

When Kaidan asked why we were headed to Ivarstead we told him of our plan to make the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar. He was intrigued by the prospect of meeting renowned masters of the Thu'um, but was curious as to why I, a Breton and Lucien an Imperial from Cyrodiil would want to go.

"As it so happens," Lucien said before I could stop him. "Our friend here just might be Dragonborn! And the Greybeards have summoned him!"

"That was meant for you?" Kaidan asked in surprise. "I heard their thundering voice some time ago! It was right before the Thalmor ambushed me."

We told him our story, of the expedition into Bleak Falls Barrow, and of our fight with the Dragon, and the incredible advent of its soul entering my body. In short, Kaidan was in awe. I expected him to be somewhat skeptical that I could be Dragonborn. Why not? _I_ still am. And Kaidan has an interest and knowledge of Nordic legends to rival even Lucien's. Why should he believe I'm Dragonborn? Yet he insists I shouldn't discount the possibility so easily.

"The Dragonblood is a blessing bestowed by Akatosh. And last I checked the Divines watch out for ALL of us. Not just Nords. You pulled me out that hole without regard for the danger. That alone makes you worthy in my book." His words humble me.  
He also took it in stride that we were prospective Companions.

"Not a bad choice as far as mercenary companies go. And they have a glorious history to live up to, dating all the way back to Ysgramor himself."

We were surprised when he declined our offer to join up.

"I'm sure you have the right stuff to make it in Jorvasskr when we get back to Whiterun." Lucien said. "They let me in after all. And you're... well look at you!"

"It's not for me." Kaidan told us. "Nearly lost myself once trying to pledge myself to some bigger identity. I won't be doing that again." There were at least a few unpleasant memories behind his eyes as he said that. But I decided not to press it. There's still things about my own past I haven't even told Lucien. Kaidan seems to be of the same mind not to pry. I know he saw the circle of runes dance around my hand when I healed him and when we fought the Thalmor. But he's said nothing about them so far. Only that my healing is a "special gift." Perhaps those questions will come. But for now we break camp for Ivarstead.


	18. Wisdom of the Road

**Entry Twenty-Six**

Thank the gods Kaidan was here today. If not for him, the song of Kieran Iron-Hand would have had a poor ending indeed. 

Along the road to Ivarstead we came upon a man who called himself Telrav. He was lying injured on the side of the road next to an overturned merchant cart. He told us that bandits had ransacked his cart and left him for dead. We offered to help him get to Ivarstead since it was just a short ways off, but he insisted he would be fine if we could just get him to his camp in the ruins of Nilheim which was just across the bridge. We obliged him happily but Kaidan was more hesitant, insisting we try to get the man to the village proper instead. Again Telrav declined so we honored his wish to help him to his camp.

When we arrived he told us to wait a moment while he went to his tent to retrieve something he could reward us with even though I insisted it wasn't necessary. But Telrav was not leaving us to get a reward. He was moving aside to get clear of the shot one of his fellows had lined up for my head. 

I was knocked to the ground as Kaidan pushed me out of the way of the shot. Telrav called out a signal when the shot had missed and a gang of six bandits descended upon us. With Kaidan on our side, we felled them all. He is a devastating sight with his sword. He whirls it swiftly despite its two-handed size, and is agile for someone as large as he is. When the battle was over, we claimed the camp as our own.

"That was damn clever of you Kaidan." Lucien praised him. "How did you know it was an ambush?"

"When he refused to let us take him to the village. If he were truly as injured as he claimed, he would have taken our offer to get some real help. That and his bow. He said he'd used it to fight the bandits off, but that quiver was full."

I thanked Kaidan for his quick thinking and apologized for putting us in such a situation.

"Aye you have a good heart." He said. "But put your trust in the wrong person just once and that good heart of yours will be run through from behind." 

His talk of misplaced trust brought the inscrutable eyes of Saadia unbidden back to my mind.

He must have noticed how his grim statement perturbed me because he added with a smile. "Lucky I was here then eh? Someone's got to look out for Jorvasskr's pups."

As luck would have it, the Nilheim ruins are right next to an old shrine of Phynaster! If earlier events hadn't been enough, this was proof to me that Phynaster put Kaidan in our path for a reason. I'm grateful to have him and Lucien at my side. I pray I can live up to their loyalty, and look forward to brave new adventures with them both.


	19. Ivarstead

**Entry Twenty-Seven**

At last we made it to the village of Ivarstead. A humble hamlet at the foot of the Throat of the World where the Greybeards await. We stopped at the Vilemyr Inn and learned a little more about our new companion.

Kaidan had been trying to save up enough gold to make it into Cyrodiil through the Pale Pass. It's been difficult to get across the border since what happened at Helgen. He'd been taking up bounty contracts to secure funds and must have drawn too much attention to himself. The Thalmor took one look at his sword, and something about it made him a target. The sword is also significant to Kaidan for more than its practical use. It's the only clue to he has to his heritage. He never knew his parents, but was raised by a Nord named Brynjar. This man told him little of either of his parents, save that his mother was brave, beautiful, and that the sword once belonged to her. 

It hasn't escaped my notice that Kaidan doesn't look like a Nord or an Imperial. He's too fair to be a Redguard, but also has none of the elfin features that mark me as Breton. Lucien has a few theories, but he hasn't put them forward yet. He finds them a little too far afield at present without more information.

But Kaidan's answers came at the price of some of his own questions. He finally asked me about the runes that appear around my magic. I knew he would eventually. There was a thinly masked suspicion in his eyes when he said it. Perhaps his Nordic guardian passed on the traditional wariness of magic. But he didn't let on further than that. I admitted I didn't know. It wasn't until Helgen that I had even known I was capable of magic. Lately I've been hoping to find answers in Skyrim. I know my father was living somewhere in the Reach when he met my mother and that they lived there happily for quite some time before he died and she was forced to return home to Cyrodiil. I was hoping I might find answers there, but so far my path hasn't led me to the Reach. Perhaps when we get more answers about my connection to the dragons from the Greybeards. 

Kaidan asked if perhaps the runes had something to do with the dragonblood that may or may not be inside me. I have no clue, but Lucien finds that unlikely. The Thu'um is an ancient magic, supposedly used when one can speak the true language of dragons.

"We've seen plenty of dragon script by now, and none of it looks close to what appears when you cast a spell. Dragon lettering is simple, like it was scratched by claws. Your runes aren't like that. Nothing is certain of course until we know more. I'm just positing my thoughts based on the evidence."

Kaidan seemed satisfied with my answer. "Seems we both have a past with questions we want answers to."

We made a pact to help one another follow what little clues we have and solve the mystery of our heritage. After all, we could use all the help we can get.

"And I'm just happy to tag along." Lucien said with a grin. 

The two of them are resting up now, but I was intrigued by something Wilhelm the inkeep mentioned. There's a barrow just outside of town that he warned me to stay away from. He swears he's seen a ghost going in and out at nights. I've never seen a real life ghost before! I wonder what unfinished business it has that keeps it lurking around the tomb. I asked if anyone had ever explored the barrow before, and Wilhelm admitted only one. A dark elf named Wyndelius. Claimed to be a treasure hunter. He went inside one night and never came back out. This is beginning to sound just like one of the ghost stories Lucien tells around the fire! So exciting! But I know neither of them are up for delving into a crypt right now.

Kaidan won't admit it, but I know he's still weary from the battle with Telrav's gang, not to mention what he endured at the hands of the Thalmor. And Lucien is also resting off some injuries. Perhaps if I slip out for some "fresh air" I can be in and out of the barrow before they notice. A quick investigation should be fine. Especially if I get to talk to a ghost!

**Entry Twenty-Eight**

Curses! It wasn't a ghost at all! It was all a ruse! 

When I entered the tomb I came face to face with a glowing blue specter telling me in a menacing voice to "leave this place." I tried to reason with it, ask it its name. But it would not reply. It vanished down the corridor and I couldn't follow since the way was barred. After some searching I found the lever to raise the grate and followed the "spirit" to its lair. 

When it saw that I had followed it, it rounded on me with a spell. Lightning hurts! I can't believe I've been slinging this power with such reckless abandon lately! When I used my voice to stagger it, I noticed that its footsteps made sounds. What kind of ghost has footsteps? Acting on a hunch I engaged it with my sword. When I struck him down there was a flash of green smoke as the illusion dispersed. Before me was the body of a dark elf, and on the table beside him I found his journal. 

This was Wyndelius Gatharian, the very treasure hunter Wilhelm said disappeared into the barrow six months ago. He's been here this entire time, searching for some treasure he believes is hidden in the main burial chamber. He mentioned it's sealed behind a door he needs some kind of claw to open. Sounds like the door Lucien and I encountered in Bleak Falls Barrow. If that's true, perhaps we'll find another word wall inside! I wonder what I could learn this time. 

I'll have to ask Wilhelm if he knows the whereabouts of the claw key. As for Wyndelius, to throw the locals off his trail and keep them from interfering with his search he devised a concoction. A pale blue potion he called the Philter of the Phantom. Drinking it allowed him to assume that ghostly appearance at least for a time. If his final journal entries are any indication, it also drove him irrevocably mad. Either that or spending six entire months in a crypt searching in vain for the claw. Either way the poor fool had been practically compelled to fight me to the death, believing himself to be "the guardian spirit of Shroud Hearth Barrow." 

I'm heading back to the inn to tell everything to Wilhelm and perhaps learn more about the claw. For now all I have are two phials of the philter I found in Wyndelius' lab... I think I have an idea.


	20. Shroud Hearth Barrow

**Entry Twenty-Nine**

Nords. No sense of humor! 

Just before I entered the inn, I imbibed some of Wyndelius' philter. Just a little so as not to suffer any ill effects on my mind. To the terror of all inside, I entered wearing the same ghostly form Wyndelius had assumed. I took great delight howling and chasing them about the tavern. Lucien almost wet himself! The look on his face! Even Kaidan was frozen in indecision, hearing my voice coming from such a ghostly visage. Then the potion's effect wore off and I was left laughing in the middle of the tavern as my true self, much to the ire of everyone around. They grumbled and hurled curses at me for giving them such a fright.

"What in Oblivion Kieran!" Lucien cried. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" 

Kaidan grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to our room where he demanded I tell him everything about where I'd been. He was not amused.

"Let me see if I heard you right. You went alone to a crypt you believed to be haunted, a place you knew someone had disappeared already, in the middle of the night?" He admonished me before giving me a good thump on the head. Divine's sake he could have taken off his gauntlet first! Worse yet he refuses to admit I scared him.

"I was concerned." He said. "Seeing a ghost wearing your companion's face is not something you should ever put a man through."

Wilhelm accepted the apology Kaidan made me give him and the rest of the guests. He even thanked me for solving the mystery of the barrow. By what he gathered from the journal I gave him, I've saved Ivarstead from a dangerous nuisance. When I asked him about the claw Wyndelius had been searching for, he laughed and admitted it was indeed in his possession.

"I'll bet that crazy Dunmer is turning in his grave to know he was so close to it all this time. A shame. I would have parted with it for a fair price if he'd only asked. It's an old family heirloom, but I have no use for it. All it does is gather dust."

He went into his back room and returned with a sapphire claw just like the golden one we'd found in Bleak Falls Barrow! And I'll bet the three symbols on its palm open the sealed door in the crypt! When I offered to buy it from him, Wilhelm gave me another proposition. 

"Tell you what. For taking care of our ghost problem I'll let you have it. If you clean up the mess you made terrorizing my guests."

"I'd say that's fair." Kaidan added sternly. 

So I spent the evening on my hands and knees righting knocked over crocks and cleaning up spills under Kaidan's watchful eye. But I now have the claw. Lucien and I are eager to explore beyond the sealed door, and Kaidan agrees if it does lead to another word wall it's worth a look. But he insists we get a night's rest first. He's watching me as I write with his stern gaze. I suspect he's going to stay to make sure I don't sneak out again. I best rest up.

**Entry Thirty**

Just as we thought, Wilhelm's sapphire claw did indeed open up the sealed door of Shroud Hearth Barrow. Beyond we found more draugr in a final burial chamber. There were thirteen sarcophogi lined up in rows. But as soon as I crossed the threshold, a gate slammed shut behind me, cutting me off from Lucien and Kaidan. 

The first two burst open as the draugr within slowly shook off their long rest. I stayed crouched low and shot them with my bow. Two more opened further down, and before they could spot me or draw their weapons, my arrows dropped them as well. Then two more, and then two more, until all thirteen had awoken only to be shot point blank. Uncle you would have beamed with pride to see how my marksmanship has progressed. When they'd all been taken care of I was able to find the release that lifted the gate so my companions could rejoin me.

"You could have left a few for me at least." Kaidan griped, but he did so with a smile. 

In the chamber beyond, just as we had hoped, we found another word wall. Once more its ancient chanting pulled at me, drawing me in to a single word that flowed through my eyes, into my mind, into the very marrow of my bones. The word is "Kyne," but when I tried to shout it, nothing happened. I know it, but I feel I don't yet understand it. Not truly, like the way I've come to understand "Fus." It's like I've learned a note or a lyric, but I don't yet know where it fits into the song.

"Perhaps you need training to master it." Lucien suggested.

"Or perhaps you need to slay yourself another dragon." Kaidan added.

Lucien mused on the idea, stroking his stubble with his fingers. "Well that too might work. Your first shout was just after the battle at the western watchtower. But for now I think we've kept the Greybeards waiting long enough. Don't you?"

"True." Kaidan agreed. "The Greybeards are masters of the Thu'um. I've no doubt they'll have some answers for the questions you have."

They're right. Whatever answers await us at the top, I feel far more prepared now than I did the day I first heard the summons. Lucien and I have trained with the sword every day. I can feel both my thu'um and my magic growing stronger. And now we have Kaidan at our side as well, a warrior worth his weight many times over. The time has come to ascend the seven thousand steps at the Throat of the World to High Hrothgar!


	21. Seven Thousand Steps

**Entry Thirty-One**

Uncle Dravus, here I am. At the top of the seven thousand steps. Already I feel different then when I began at the foot of the mountain. And not just because of the weariness in my legs. I see why so many would brave the cold and the height to walk this path. 

We read and meditated on the trail marker emblems, as we passed, taking in the story and pondering on its meaning in our history. The history of the birth of men, carved into stone that feels as though it witnessed the very stories it tells. It tells of the time when dragons ruled earth and sky, of the birth of men when they spread over the land and were ruled by dragons. How they tried to rise up, but were shouted down by their dragon masters, and how Kyne called on one named Paarthurnax to teach men the use of the Thu'um that their voices might win their freedom. 

Lucien says Kyne is an ancient nordic name for the Goddess Kynareth, and some Nords venerate her by this name to this day. So it was her name I learned in Shroud Hearth Barrow. I feel at peace speaking it now and pondering on what she represents. Lucien had no knowledge of who Paarthurnax might be. There's no mention of an individual by that name in any of the histories he's read. The stone markers only say that he taught men the voice, and with it they shouted Alduin the World Eater out of the world and claimed their freedom.

"Alduin" Lucien explained "Is the destructive aspect of Akatosh. Nordic legend claims he was the firstborn of Akatosh and ruled Mundus in the time before man. Nords who believe in the ancient ways also believe he will return at the end of days to bring about this world's end, but what that means is vague at best. Some say it's total destruction. Others believe it means a rebirth of sorts."

The emblems also told of a man named Jurgen Windcaller who founded the philosophy known as "The Way of the Voice" which the Greybeards follow now. And of Tiber Septim who was summoned to High Hrothgar as a stripling by the voice of the Greybeards who named him Dovahkiin.

"Dovahkiin. That's what we heard when they summoned you! Perhaps it means Dragonborn!" Lucien was giddy at the implications. "You have been summoned to High Hrothgar to be named Dragonborn by the Greybeards just as Tiber Septim was! And I'm here to witness it with my own eyes! Future generations could be studying what I record today years from now! Isn't this exciting!"

Even Kaidan seemed to agree. "Aye. We're a part of history in the making right now. And it all begins when you walk through that door."

But he was wrong. It began before this. As we read the story etched into the emblems of stone on our climb up the seven thousand steps, I had also seen my own story spread out over the landscape of Skyrim far below us. From the cliffside I could see the ruins of Helgen where I had barely escaped death and the first dragon seen in centuries had wrought devastation that has left its scars upon me and all others who witnessed it forever. 

I saw Bleak Falls Barrow, the sight of my first adventure with Lucien to retrieve the Dragonstone, where I learned the word that would become my first shout. And I saw the western watchtower where we had defeated Mirmulnir under Irileth's command, and I had taken the dragon's very soul into myself. 

We could not see Whiterun for it rests on the northern side of the mountain. But my thoughts turned to it and the many faces of friends who have become part of my journey: Faces of Kodlak, of Vilkas and Farkas, Aela, Skjor, Torvar, Ria, and the rest of the companions. Of Saadia who I pray is finding her way, free of a past full of regrets.

And here I am now at the steps of High Hrothgar's monastery, to learn from the Greybeards what I am. If I truly am Dragonborn, and what that means.

So much has happened since the day I crossed the border into Skyrim, and yet in some ways I am still that frightened boy you hid inside that cart. Even now, mere steps from the monastery doors I am trembling like a leaf.

But it is not with fear that I tremble. It is eagerness. It is excitement. The end of a journey of seven thousand steps marks the beginning of a new journey, a new adventure, and I am overcome by a sense of destiny I have never felt before. I close this journal now to breathe deep, pray to Phynaster in thanks for leading me this far through roads dangerous and wondrous. And open the door. 


	22. The Way of the Voice

**Entry Thirty-Two**

Dragonborn. There is no more denying what I am, though what that means I still have yet to discover. The Greybeards were a somber and heavy presence from the first moment I laid eyes on them. None of them spoke save for Master Arngeir. He claims he speaks for them all because of the unbridled power each of them carry within their voice. Even a whisper could be deadly, so they only speak for true needs. Arngeir didn't explain why he alone is able to speak with me as any other. Perhaps he's their senior? And has more control over his thu'um? In any event he asked that I demonstrate for them that I am the Dragonborn they summoned. 

"Let us taste of your voice." He said. I hesitated, having seen a single use of my shout stagger even a seasoned warrior like Kematu. I worried what it would do to the venerable men standing before me. How foolish that seems now. Arngeir assured me they could withstand it so I released "Fus." They took a single step back, but wavered no more from my voice. Truly they are masters of the Thu'um. I'm eager to learn from them that I might one day have such control. Arngeir nodded with grace and called me Dragonborn, but still I said I wasn't sure if I could truly be called that. Such doubts were quickly admonished out of me, sternly.

"Did you not just shout before us?" Arngeir asked. I nodded. "Yes, a word you understand and could somehow read though it was written in the language of dragons." Again I nodded. "And when you slew the dragon Mirmulnir, did you not take his soul into yourself?" 

I hesitated. "...I think so."

"Wrong. You know so. You have been proven Dragonborn thrice already. To demand more signs than the gods have already given would be arrogance. You feel it in your soul what you are."  
Even without calling upon a shout, Arngeir's voice carries the weight of the mountain with it. 

"But what does that mean?" I asked.

"We are here to guide you in that knowledge. It is the way of the Greybeards to guide the Dragonborn towards their destiny."

"So what is my destiny?" 

"That is not for us to decide. It is in your own hands, and the hands of the gods. All we may teach you is how to listen to their voice, and carry it in your own. You have many questions Dragonborn. That is good. You can shout, but the path of wisdom is open to those who can listen. Who are willing and able to learn. But for now you and your companions shall rest. Welcome to High Hrothgar."

Wordlessly they invited us to break bread at their table and showed us where we could sleep. Lucien was far from content to leave discussion at that though. As soon as we'd sat down he positioned himself on the other side of Master Arngeir and peppered him with all sorts of questions on the way of the voice, the history of High Hrothgar, how they had trained Tiber Septim. But Arngeir was able to temper even Lucien's rabid curiosity.

"Young Flavius, both you and the Dragonborn have been given wisdom this day. You should not ask for more until you have given yourself time to ponder upon what you already have."

I heard Kaidan chuckle at that. Still, even he can't help but be swept up by the weight of where we are. I see him studying the walls, the carvings, the books deeply. He thinks about a great deal, but says very little. I should try to follow his example. But I simply can't sleep. I have answers, but now I have even more questions!

Why can I speak the dragon tongue? Why can I take the souls of dragons? Why are the dragons suddenly reappearing? Does it have something to do with my destiny? What is the way of the voice? I'll try to rest, but with no guarantee of sleep.

**Entry Thirty-Three**

The training at Jorvasskr was hard, but training under the Greybeards takes more endurance than I thought possible for anyone. We have been at High Hrothgar for a week, and I am expected to train physically as well as mentally and spiritually. Each day I am occupied with tests of physical exertion broken only for long meditation. And sometimes, if he feels I have earned it, Arngeir will impart some wisdom on what I should actually be doing. Today I learned that "Fus" and indeed all words of power are only part of a shout. Each shout is made up of three words of power. Fus is only the first of the shout "Unrelenting Force." In order to continue my training, Arngeir has asked me to master "Ro," the second word which means balance. When I have mastered it, I may combine it with Fus for a stronger shout. Alas, like the word Kyne, I find myself unable to call on Ro with my thu'um. I can say the word, but there is no power in it.

"That power will come from true understanding, Dragonborn." Master Arngeir assured me. "Breath and focus."

"Breath and focus" seems to be his answer for everything. Lucien posited his theory to them that I unlocked my previous understanding of Fus by absorbing Mirmulnir's soul, and Arngeir not only confirmed this to be true, but expounded upon it. 

"All dragons are the children of Akatosh, Dragon God of Time. Like the minutes and hours in the great flow of eternity, they are all a part of him. Dovahkiin, your body is flesh and blood like any man or mer. But your soul is that of a dragon's. A dragon cannot truly be slain. They simply slumber until time's wheel turns back upon them. But when dragons combat each other, that is another matter. Dragonborn, even your soul is a fragment of Akatosh. One day you too will become one with him. Mirmulnir is not truly dead. He lives on in you. You took a fragment of his knowledge, his memory within you. Did you not?"

I nodded. "I remember flashes. The night after I even heard his voice. But it's faded since."

Arngeir was unfazed by this. "You have the soul of a dragon, but your body is still flesh and blood. As such, you only took in what you were capable of. The rest of Mirmulnir's life force is with his father now."

"Then why don't we just go slay another dragon?" Kaidan asked. His boldness continues to astound me. He's never even laid eyes on a dragon. Yet from what I've come to know of him, I believe he'd stare one down in single combat without flinching. 

At this, Arngeir replied calmly "Your path is your own Dragonborn. You may seek out a dragon to slay if you wish. But the path of wisdom is long, and without shortcuts. You came here for true understanding did you not?" I agreed. "Then it would behoove you to continue your training here. Breath and focus."

While I agree that I should continue my training in order to give direction and purpose to the power growing within me, it comes as no surprise that Arngeir considered combat the easier, weaker path. The way of the voice is a way of pacifism. Arngeir says that Jurgen Windcaller, the founder of their order taught that the voice was a gift from the gods, and that mortals should use it only in the glory and worship of Kynareth and the other divines. 

"Then why teach Tiber Septim?" Lucien asked. While I am occupied with physical training under Arngeir's watchful eye, he delights in taking the time to learn more as always. "Historically, he used his voice to conquer most of Tamriel. I can't imagine the Way of the Voice looks too kindly on that."

"Because the dragon blood is also a gift of the gods." Arngeir replied. "One that Tiber Septim was given for a reason. A reason he discovered for himself for good or ill, just as Kieran will in time. And the Greybeards have always been called to guide those with the dragon blood. It is not our decision to make."

I don't believe I will be able to continue daily entries in this journal. I know I should, as it is a good tool for reflection and meditation. But I am just so tired. I will write when I can.

**Entry Thirty-Four**

I am in my third week training under the masters. I am exhausted in mind and sore in every inch of my body down to my fingertips. And still I have not managed to call forth the second word in Unrelenting Force! If anything I feel weaker than when I began. Lucien believes it might be due to the high altitude. The air is thinner at the top of the mountain, making even menial chores feel like heavy labor. But I fear there is more to it than that. In fact, fear may be the exact word. Ever since I learned what I was, I have felt a sense of destiny. My new life has been pulling me to some greater purpose. But that purpose feels so heavy, I shrink from it. My dreams are still troubled by the flames of Helgen, of the black dragon and its red eyes that burn with a hunger to swallow the world. Or they're troubled by Uncle Meridius and Aunt Lavinia, by the marks they left upon my heart and my body. When Master Arngeir admonished me to accept the truth that I am Dragonborn, I did so. But in word only. In my heart I still feel every bit that weak mongrel boy I've always been. 

And whenever I ask Arngeir for advice I am frustrated by his continued use of platitudes rather than any concrete direction. "Breath and focus" he will say for the thousandth time. Or something about the path of wisdom being long. I wish he would simply tell me what I am supposed to do!


	23. Force and Balance

**Entry Thirty-Five**

Kaidan said something to me today that has me looking inward. While most of my training here has asked me search within myself, it has been frustrating. This is the first time in some while that I feel more direction. Of the three of us he seems remarkably at peace here. While Lucien devours every book and takes voracious notes on everything he can, Kaidan spends his time hunting in the wilds. He admits he feels more at home in the wilds than among civilization. But I can tell that even they are growing restless and I feel guilt that they should seem obligated to remain trapped here by my lack of progress.

I haven't spoken of my frustration to anyone. But Kaidan must have sensed it anyway. When he asked about the day's training, I began by telling him simply it was more of the same, but the more we spoke, the more he eventually brought it out of me. He patiently listened the whole while as I told him how discouraged I have become these past weeks at not being able to call forth the second word. How Arngeir gives me virtually no direction, just vague proverbs. He listened without judgment until I felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes. He put his large hand on my back and we sat in silence for a moment.

"I don't think he can help you." He said. "That shout, it's Unrelenting Force right? Maybe you just have to force it." He smiled. "Ah but what do I know. You'll figure it out Kieran. We're with you all the way. You know that right?" I nodded and thanked him for listening to me, then bid him good night. The demeanor of his patience and encouragement reminds me so much of you Uncle Dravus. Of the way you would listen and let me be myself in those precious stolen moments when you could be home.

Kaidan is right. Force is not something that has ever come easily to me. Uncle Meridius had kept a firm grip on every action, every aspect of me. All my life I have done as I have been told. After crossing the border, all of that changed. I have a new life now. I am finally free to be who and what I want. And I have been squandering that gift of freedom you gave me. From Helgen, to Whiterun, to here at High Hrothgar I have been waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I have simply traded Uncle Meridius' control for another form of servitude. Even my destiny as Dragonborn is not something I chose for myself. It's something I stumbled into. And I've allowed its weight to pull me along the current wherever it wills. I have not taken charge of it, decided what it will be for myself. What I will do with it. And perhaps that is why I cannot call forth the second word. 

Ro means balance. I thought that meant I should be at peace. But tranquility is only one half of the coin. I have allowed myself to be pushed and pulled, it's high time I start to push back.

**Entry Thirty-Six**

I've done it! Today in the courtyard! At last!

Arngeir came to me in the courtyard this morning. Rather than the regular exercises, I had taken to shouting. I summoned Fus over and over, but Ro was still a mere whisper. But I had decided this day I would not move from that spot until I had shouted both words. 

"Do you find wisdom in throwing yourself against the wall over and over in the hope that it will eventually break?" Arngeir asked, his face as immovable as a wall itself. I ignored him and continued. He stood by and scolded me for the foolishness of my actions, reciting previous lectures on the path of wisdom. But still I continued. 

After a time, Lucien came out to see the cause of the commotion and expressed worry. "Kieran you're going to strain yourself!" He shouted to be heard over my thu'um. "Be patient! It takes years for most to master a single word! Don't push yourself too hard!"

But I do not have years. I feel the weight of my destiny. I know I have power within me, and I desire to use it to a good end. And in this instance I knew I could no longer be patient.

Master Arngeir's words continued to rain down from my side like darts, but I have learned to ignore the disapproval of Uncle Meridius. I could train myself to ignore Arngeir's. When at last his condescension had worn down my patience, I turned my gaze to meet his. There was a smugness in his eyes, in his unmovable expression that snapped something within me. And rather than rein in the impulse as my passive nature would normally dictate, I released it. It shot forth like the taut string of my bow.

"FUS RO!" 

My thu'um echoed through the courtyard louder and stronger than it has ever been. Arngeir threw up his hands but could not stop the force that struck him with full potency in the face. He was thrown onto his back. As he got to his feet, two feelings swirled within me. The first was excitement that I had finally managed to break through the barrier. The second was worry at what Arngeir would do or say once he had gotten to his feet. Lucien looked between the two of us with worried shock. 

Arngeir stood, and for the first time since I've met him, a smile spread across his ancient face. 

"Well done Dragonborn."

**Entry Thirty-Seven**

After further training, I have been able to call on both words of the shout consistently. Because of this, Master Arngeir and the other Greybeards have advanced me to the next step of my training. They have challenged me to learn a completely new shout. They have taught me "Wuld" which means whirlwind. It is the first word in the shout known as "Whirlwind Sprint." When I summon it, I am able to sprint a short distance at an incredible speed. This shout seems to have come easier to me than Unrelenting Force, and I feel a new surge of hope and confidence in my abilities.

I have been training with the use of a gate in the courtyard. Master Wulfgar keeps it open for only a moment, and in the instant before it closes I am meant to pass through it. This has led to several embarrassing falls, some of which have ended with me slamming face first into the metal grate just as it closed. Today I managed to pass through partially before getting caught between the swinging doors. I struggled to free myself, but this only led to my breeches being snagged and tearing. At the moment I'm shivering in the monastery's sleeping quarters, sitting in just my smallclothes while Kaidan uses needle and thread to mend my torn trousers. 

"I say Kaidan, where did you learn to sew?" Lucien asked.

"Brynjar taught me. We kept on the move a lot in the wilds, only going into towns or cities when we absolutely had to. Got to know how to mend your own clothes if you're going to live like that."

Embarrassment and failures aside, I'm eager to try again tomorrow. I'm confident I can make it through the gate next time. I also thanked Kaidan for his help, relating how his advice was what finally led to the breakthrough in my training. He shrugged it off modestly.

"That was all you my friend. Don't forget that. Even at your lowest, you decide who you are."

Once more I am humbled by his faith in me, and in the companionship of my fellows. I will strive to be worthy of it.


	24. Our Journey Resumes

**Entry Thirty-Eight**

As the gate closed behind me after I was safely out through it, so closes this phase of my training. I can scarcely believe I have made it this far. Today, the masters awarded me with a ring as a symbol of my advancement. Its outer side is carved in dragonscript, and in the dragon tongue it says "Sky Above, Voice Within," the mantra of those who follow the Way of the Voice. After I had accepted the ring, Master Arngeir informed me of what he said would be my final trial.

"You have learned much in such a short time Dovahkiin. You are ready for final trial. In the northwest of Skyrim, you will find Ustengrav, the final resting place of Jurgen Windcaller. From his tomb, you will retrieve his horn and return it to High Hrothgar. Do this, and we masters of the voice will recognize you formally as Dragonborn. Sky Above, Voice Within." He said, and I repeated. 

I feel an eagerness for the road as we make our preparations to depart tomorrow. I can sense it in Lucien and Kaidan as well. Both are excited at the prospect of traveling to the tomb of a man of such significance in Skyrim's history. Furthermore, Whiterun is on the way to Ustengrav. I cannot wait to see the walls of Jorrvaskr again and show Kodlak all that I have learned in High Hrothgar.

As my training has progressed, Arngeir has been more forthcoming when I approach with questions, for which I am grateful. It was only recently I was finally able to show him the runes that appear around my magic to ask if he knew what they meant.

"It seems you are blessed by the gods with many gifts Dragonborn. But I am afraid I have no answers for you on this. Those runes are unfamiliar to us. It is possible it has something to do with the dragon blood, but I find that unlikely. Those runes are not in the dragon script, and there is no record of any other Dragonborn displaying such a manifestation. As far as I know, Tiber Septim was powerful in the Thu'um, but was unpracticed in any other form of magic."

I asked if there might be anywhere else I can turn for magical knowledge in Skyrim. His face was grim when he answered.

"The Mage's Guild has no presence in Skyrim. But there is a place on the northern coast where one can supposedly go to obtain knowledge of magic. It is the College of Winterhold. But I must warn you. The pursuit of knowledge is a noble goal, but it must be tempered with wisdom. Many, especially the mages of the college hold to a belief that knowledge and wisdom are one in the same. Tell me, what do you believe is the difference between the two?"

I pondered for a moment. "Wisdom is... knowing what to do with your knowledge."

"You learn quickly Dragonborn. Would that others grasped this truth more easily. As we have said, your path is your own. But I would ask that you be cautious should you approach Winterhold. They tamper with forces beyond their ken. Show them something they do not understand, it is their way to take it apart in their pursuit."

I'm grateful for his counsel on the matter, but saddened if the College really is my best lead to learn the secret of my runes. If they are anything like the Synod or the Mage's Guild in Cyrodiil, their academy is likely home to many skilled mages more powerful than I. If my runes are a new discovery as Master Arngeir suspects, and they decided to detain me for study, I doubt I would be strong enough to stop them. I did not escape Cyrodiil and Helgen to trade one prison for another. Perhaps one day my path will lead me to Winterhold, but not now. 

For now I will focus on my duty as Dragonborn. We depart for Ustengrav in the morning. 

**Entry Thirty-Nine**

Descending the lofty heights of the seven thousand steps all the way back down to Ivarstead felt like stepping back into the world after a long and peaceful sleep. My feet are eager to continue our journey. My entire being hums with excitement! And it seems we were missed while on our pilgrimage. We lodged at the Vilemyr Inn once more (after promising Wilhelm I had no more ghostly hijinks planned). But we found also lodging at the inn our friend and faithful courier Vander Nightbrook! He had a message to deliver to us and was grateful he ran into us in Ivarstead rather than having to make the trek all the way up the seven thousand steps.

"Got a little something for you two right here from Jorrvaskr." He said before sprinting away into the night before we could even invite him to sit and have a drink with us. I opened it and read it aloud.

"It's from Skjor. 'When you two whelps conclude your business at High Hrothgar, there is a job here Kodlak and I feel might suit you. Remember where you go, you represent your shield-siblings as well. I expect you to conduct yourselves honorably.'   
That's definitely Skjor."

"You two are a headache for him aren't you." Kaidan said not as a question but an assumed fact.

Lucien ignored him, sounding genuinely excited at the new prospect.   
"Barely back on the ground five minutes, and already people are lining up to call for aid from the Mighty Dragonborn! Kieran Iron-Hand, hero of the land!"

I reminded him the letter was for both of us, and we wondered what it might mean that Kodlak feels the job is suited for us. Neither of us are full companions yet. What makes this job so unique? But for now, Divines am I starving! The smell of roast goat leg hit me like a storm when I entered the inn after living off the freeze dried rations at High Hrothgar for as long as I have. 

**Entry Forty**

Finally found a place to camp underneath a cliffside to keep us dry enough from the rain. I think the weather brought out an uglier side of my companions. Lucien asked Kaidan if he could read, innocently but tactlessly. Kaidan took offense and said he may not have spent his life in "some stuffy college" but that what he does know is far more important than the "fairy stories" Lucien reads. 

Before I could interject, Lucien went on this long tirade of what a complex and useful thing the study of Tamriel's history is and that he wouldn't expect "barbarians" like Kaidan to understand. 

Kaidan then intimated that "this barbarian might be stupid enough to forget to watch your back the next time a draugr swings an axe for your scrawny neck." 

I shouted "Fus!" to silence them and said we should probably make camp and get some rest before our exhaustion makes us do something we regret. They agreed but are stubbornly refusing to talk to each other. How did I get caught in the middle of this? I don't like it.

**Entry Forty-One**

The paths of one's journey are seldom straight. They are winding and tangled indeed. After eating in silence and getting into our bedrolls, Lucien was the first to drift off which gave me a chance to speak to Kaidan. I told him not to be too angry with Lucien. 

"He's a good sort really." I said. "His mouth is just a lot faster than his head sometimes."

He smiled at that. "Aye. I'm sorry I let that get to me. It's just that..." He hesitated. "You're both quite well read, and the truth is I envy that. Never had much time for that as a child. Brynjar had focused my education on the art of war first. Today just made me think. I might want to try to catch up now. Expand my mind a little."

I was a little taken aback. I've never considered myself well read. Uncle Meridius had never expressly forbidden me from reading. But I knew I would be soundly beaten if he caught me doing so in lieu of my chores around the estate. Which kept me busy most of the day. I read what was available in the library, The Song Of Pelinal being among my favorites. But the only book I was able to consistently read was the little book of my father's every night before bed when I at last had some time to myself. Since coming to Skyrim I've been enjoying my new freedom by devouring every book I come across. I don't know if that makes me "well read." But I can understand Kaidan's desire to learn more. 

"I could share any books we come across if you like."

"Aye." He said. "I'd like that. Do you have any on you now?"

"Just one." I replied, and pulled out the book of ghost stories Lucien and I had found after leaving Bleak Falls Barrow. Kaidan's jaw nearly hit the ground. At first I thought he simply enjoyed a good ghost story as much as I did.

"Where did you get that?" He asked in disbelief. I told him of the little abandoned campsite we had found and he grew still and grave. I asked him what was wrong. "That camp was mine. That book was something I kept with me to pass the time by the campfire. That's where the Thalmor ambushed me. I can't believe you found it!"

We both sat in stunned silence for awhile. We had been so close! Who knew what could have happened if Lucien and I had reached that camp a day, even an hour sooner. Maybe then Kaidan wouldn't have had to endure torture at the hands of the Thalmor. I told him as much with a heartfelt apology, but he shrugged it off. 

"There's no way you could have known. You got me out of there. That's what counts. And hey, perhaps destiny led you to me when it was supposed to. Or you might have been rotting in the cell next to me. Then Tamriel would be short a Dragonborn. Anyway I'm glad to be traveling with you now."

I smiled and nodded to where Lucien lay snoring. "Both of us?"

He laughed. "Don't push your luck."


	25. The Wood Elf Huntress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading the story thus far. I'm afraid I might not be able to post updates as consistently as I have been. I'll still try to since a lot of these entries are written already. It's just a matter of pasting them here and adding the screenshots which are also already taken. I'm in my final semester in college taking easily the most rigorous course I've ever taken, so hopefully I can still put out updates semi-regularly. Anyway thank you again, and I hope I'll be able to continue adding to Kieran's journey.

**Entry Forty-Two**

Our path to Whiterun was different from before. I wanted to explore the southern pass around the Throat of the World this time. So we passed through Falkreath with plans to head north. Seeing us outfitted and well armed, one of the local guards asked if we were mercenaries. I replied that we were Companions, and they thanked their good luck. They were being troubled by a saber cat in a nearby lair and asked that we dispose of it for them. They said they could pay, and we agreed to take care of the beast in exchange for lodging at the inn "The Dead Man's Drink." (There seems to be a lot of grave based humor around the names in Falkreath that I don't understand yet. Something to do with the massive graveyard by the village perhaps? I'll have to ask next time we pass through). 

Turns out we needn't have bothered hunting the beast, for when we got there the thing was dead in its lair, full of arrows! Its remains were in the process of being skinned by a wood elf huntress with wild red hair. She paid us no mind as we entered, just nodded in our direction and continued her task.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Odd question." She replied. "I thought that would be obvious. I'm skinning my dinner. Normally I prefer deer, but this cat has made the local wildlife scarce this last week, and I've been going hungry. So tonight I finally tracked it here to solve both problems at once." She said it so matter-of-factly. Is she so accustomed to taking down ferocious predators? 

She took notice of Kaidan and Lucien, and laughed when my stomach suddenly growled. "There's far too much meat for me to consume alone. Perhaps you'd like to join me. I wouldn't mind the company. I don't get many visitors out this way." We agreed and she told us her name is Auri. After telling the guard the beast wouldn't trouble them anymore, we declined the payment they'd promised since we hadn't technically been the ones to kill the saber cat. Auri declined a reward as well when we told the guard it had been her doing. 

"I didn't do it for you. I was hungry."

She led us into the woods a few leagues away from the hold where we beheld a sight none of us have ever seen. It was a tree as tall as a city wall, but bulbous and round like a seed pod. It had porthole windows and an elegant ramp. Inside was lit with brightly colored lanterns Auri says she made from animal hides she's tanned and stretched into canvas. And through the round door into the tree itself was a cozy home with a bed of furs, and a fire which we cooked our (well Auri's) kill over. 

As Auri is the first Bosmer from Valenwood he's ever met, as usual Lucien had dozens of questions. But he seems to have found someone who doesn't mind a bit. Auri is all too happy to talk about her homeland and her people. I must admit hearing her talk of Valenwood intrigues me greatly as well. I too have never met a wood elf from their homeland. I've only met those raised in the Imperial City, or here in Skyrim. And they certainly aren't anything like Auri. For instance, her tree home was grown naturally. Due to their adherence to something called the Green Pact, Bosmer from Valenwood are forbidden to cut down trees or harm any plant life (the Green they call it). When we asked how she'd accomplished this she simply said she sang to the woods to grow her home. She assures us such a thing is possible for any wood elf, though it took her longer than it normally would since she is alone, and the trees here have a different "song." She says it's nowhere near as big or as grand as the great graht-oak houses of her homeland. But for her needs it suits her just fine.

"Now it's hardly fair of me to do all the telling." She said after Lucien's eighth question (and my seventh). "I'd like to know more about my guests. And the sharing of stories pleases Y'ffre."  
Y'ffre she told us is the Wood Elf patron god of the Green and of stories.

The four of us talked long into the night about how we had met, how I discovered I was Dragonborn, our training with the Greybeards, and our fight with a dragon. Auri took the whole story in stride, admitting she doesn't know much about the legend of the Dragonborn, but has become an admirer of Alessia the "slave queen" since her trip through Cyrodiil. She showed great enthusiasm hearing of our fight with Mirmulnir, and listened with sympathy when I told her of what I'd seen in Helgen. 

"I had heard rumors from the locals that dragons have returned. They sound like terrifying and majestic creatures. They'd make a worthy hunt."

Then we told her of the current trial we would be undertaking in Ustengrav.

"After we make a stop at Whiterun of course. Check in at Jorrvaskr and all that. And Kieran aren't you still a Thane there? The Jarl's court must be missing you by now." Lucien said.  
At the mention of Whiterun, Auri's pointed ears perked up.

"Did you say you were passing through Whiterun? I've heard there is a beautiful sacred tree in the middle of the city."

"Yes." I replied. "The Gildergreen right outside the temple of Kynareth."

Her eyes gleamed as she said "I've wanted to see that tree ever since I heard of it. Oh please can I go with you to see the sacred tree?"

"We'd love to have you along!" Lucien answered before either Kaidan or I could say a word. Kaidan wasn't very talkative tonight. Not that he ever is. But tonight he seems ill at ease. 

Auri allowed us to stay in her home tonight and tomorrow she plans to come with us to Whiterun. Between her stories, songs, and impressive marksmanship she should be good company for the journey.


	26. A Symbol of Hope

**Entry Forty-Three**

We finally reached Whiterun well after nightfall. Had a run in with some bandits on the way, but the four of us were plenty capable at driving them off. The four of us! Remember when I was the boy no one would play with Uncle? And now I have three traveling companions? What a life I lead now!

Auri decided it would be better to wait until morning to see the Gildergreen. She wants to see it for the first time when the sun can glimmer off the petals of its blossoms. So we made for Jorrvaskr. Kaidan feels right at home here, and Auri also seems comfortable. She mentioned something about the scent making her feel at home even though it's a building made of wood which normally bothers her. She said it had a "feral" atmosphere. 

By Shor it's good to be home! To feast and drink in the mead hall again with our fellows! To introduce our new friend Kaidan and revel in more tales of our shared adventures. And hear of their own! Ria is a fully recognized companion now! Aela took her for her trial to clear out a den of bears. She even showed me the scars to prove it. 

"When is our trial?" Lucien asked.

Skjor spoke as sharp tongued as ever. "When the Circle decides you are ready, and not a moment before new-blood."

Kodlak seconded this with his gentler voice. "Patience young ones. You will have your chance." I have missed his counsel and the sound of his voice.

"For now you two have spent too long praying on a mountaintop." Skjor went on. "You'll need to re-hone your warrior's senses. Seek some action! Here." He barked as he thrust a notice across the table to us. "This came to us from Solitude. Some scholar wants to reopen a museum. That ruin the Greybeards are sending you to. It's near Solitude isn't it? Job sounds perfect for you."

Lucien and I poured over what it said, and both of us agreed with excitement that we were up to the task.

"Artifacts of historical significance?! Adventure and good old fashioned research?! This is right up my alley!" Lucien crowed.

We asked Kaidan what he thought, and he also seemed intrigued by the thought. "There's a rich history in this land. And it's not too far out of our way. I say we see what the curator's offering." 

Auri turned up her nose at the notion. "Why would you want to go to a place called Solitude? That sounds like such a sad name."

"On the contrary Auri, Solitude is the capital of Skyrim." Lucien explained. "It's the seat of the High King. Or at least it was until Ulfric shouted King Torryg to pieces. But still, you'll be hard pressed to find a more lively city in all Skyrim I'm sure! Even more than Whiterun!"

"I suppose I can tag along then." She said. "So long as you don't forget your promise."

"I promise Auri," I told her. "We'll show you the Gildergreen first thing in the morning."

My heart and stomach is full this night. My friends have gone to sleep. Auri refused a bed in favor of sleeping outside on her bedroll. Any other night I might have kept her company under the stars. But tonight I cannot wait to sleep in a warm bed again. However, before I lay my head down to rest, I wish to call on the wisdom of our great Harbinger. I don't know when I'll be able to speak to Kodlak again. I should make good use of our time here. 

**Entry Forty-Four**

I don't have much time to write at present. Auri's grown impatient. I slept way too late and she's eager as ever to see the Gildergreen. But I'm still so tired. Kodlak and I talked long into the night about all that I'd learned at High Hrothgar and the many questions I still have. They said they're meant to guide the Dragonborn on their destiny, but can't tell me what their destiny is.

"Because it is not theirs to decide." Kodlak said in his firm but kind manner. "The thu'um is a power within you just as your skill with the sword. You can learn from your shield-siblings here, hone those skills. But no one in the Companions can tell you how or where to use your blade. Not even I. Have faith in yourself young one. You have a good heart, and it is leading you down an honorable path. Did they have answers for your other question? The runes on your hand?"

I shook my head and told him what Master Arngeir had told me. I trust all my shield-siblings here in Jorrvaskr. But Kodlak is the only one I felt I could confide the secret of my magic in. 

"Perhaps he is right." He said. "I know the importance of family lad. And if you are intent on finding answers about your father I cannot fault you. But take care to also honor and enjoy the family you have now. Your shield-siblings are fond of you and have great faith in what you will accomplish as a Companion. And your new comrades, I can see a bond forming between you and them that is good and strong. You may not find the answers you seek on this path, but I believe you will find the answers you need."  
I suppose I'll have time later to ponder on my Harbinger's advice. I've kept Auri and the others waiting long enough.

**Entry Forty-Five**

A tragedy! How could we have missed it! When we opened the doors of Jorrvaskr and descended the steps, there in the middle of the Winds District was the Gildergreen. But it was not the beautiful symbol of Kynareth's works I had seen when last we left Whiterun! It was a dried husk of dead wood and withered branches. We made for the temple of Kynareth to ask Danica Purespring what had become of the Gildergreen and she told us of a lightning strike that seems to have killed the tree. 

"But it's not dead." Auri said. "I can still hear the hum of its spirit in the roots. It's song is just quiet."

Danica seemed to know what Auri meant. "It's true." She said. "Trees like this one never really die. They only slumber. But I don't know how long it will sleep. We need a living symbol of Kynareth's grace or Whiterun will suffer. This tree has been an important symbol to the people of Whiterun since before the city was built. The temple relies on donations of pilgrims who come to meditate beneath the Gildergreen's branches."

I asked Auri if she could sing to the Gildergreen to wake it up, but she shook her head.

"It's slumber is so deep I can barely hear its song. My voice alone won't be able to reach it."

"There might be another way." Danica said. "But it would be dangerous."

The disappointment on Auri's face when she first laid eyes on the dead Gildergreen was still fresh in my mind. "Danica you're right. The people of Whiterun need this tree! And the pilgrims who come to worship. They need something to believe in. The Divines, the beauty of nature, hope, anything right now. Whatever you need to revive the Gildergreen we'll do it."

Danica accepted our offer and told us that sap from the Gildergreen's parent tree, an ancient and sacred tree called Eldergleam might be enough to awaken it. But its sap is impossible to retrieve by normal means. Eldergleam is older than metal, and its bark can only be pierced by a weapon as old as the tree itseslf, crafted with the old magics. She knows of such a weapon, a knife called Nettlebane. She says it's held in a Hagraven nest called Orphan Rock east of the Helgen ruins. The witches use the blade to sacrifice spriggans in their perverse rituals. 

"Hagravens are downright nasty creatures." Lucien's lips curled in disgust. "But I suppose it's worth tangling with them for a good cause like the Gildergreen."

Kaidan nodded in agreement. "Perversions of nature those things. Even without the Gildergreen, we'd be doing the world a favor just by getting that knife out of their hands."

We returned to Jorrvaskr to gather our gear, but Auri waited beside the Gildergreen, nervously shifting from foot to foot. I asked her if she was afraid of facing Hagravens. She shook her head violently, insulted by the suggestion.

"It's not the Hagravens I worry about. I'm all for restoring the Gildergreen, but... do we have to hurt such an ancient and beautiful tree? Especially with such an ugly weapon?" Her words gave me pause. I hadn't considered that. Her adherence to the Green Pact means Auri is more sensitive to matters of nature. Perhaps she has a point. But we'll have to consider our options later. I'm very interested in this ancient dagger, and if it is as Danica describes then Kaidan is right. Those witches shouldn't have it.


	27. I Hate Being the Mediator

**Entry Forty-Six**

Another quiet night at camp. I hate the quiet. I've had quite enough of silence from the attic of Uncle Meridius' manor thank you very much. And just when Kaidan and Lucien were on speaking terms again! But now Kaidan is taking issue with our new companion!

We passed through Riverwood on our way to Orphan Rock and stopped at Lucan and Camilla's for some supplies. He warned us that some bandits had been sighted in the nearby abandoned Embershard Mine which our journey was going to take us right past. Jarl Balgruuf's newly stationed guards are short handed as it is, doing their best to keep watch and protect Riverwood from Dragon attacks. The good people of Riverwood have already been through enough, so we made it a point to ensure these bandits wouldn't trouble them anymore. 

They had one watchman stationed outside, but Auri's arrow flew true before he had even spotted us. It seemed that watchman was their only means to alert the bandits of trespassers because they were caught completely unawares when we infiltrated the hideout. Their chief brandished a great-axe at me, a terrible looking weapon with a blood red blade at the end of its long black haft. When he raised its crimson glint before me, something came over me. An unnatural fear gripped me, keeping me rooted to the spot. Had it not been for Auri's true shooting once more, I might not be writing in this journal tonight. When he had been felled by an arrow through the throat, I was able to shake off the axe's enchantment. Rest assured, Riverwood has nothing to fear from bandits for now. 

"Seems like everyone in Skyrim are becoming outlaws." Kaidan grimaced. "By Zenithar, get a trade."

"It must take an awful lot of bad stuff to drive a person to banditry." Lucien reflected. "I feel sorry for them. Did they choose the bandit life? Or did the bandit life choose them?"

"That's a dangerous route to go down Lucien." I said, though in my heart I know there's a kernel of truth to what he says. "Vilkas warned us in Jorrvaskr. It's you or them in the heat of battle. Any hesitation or sympathy will get you killed."

"I suppose you're right." He relented.

That's when Kaidan noticed what Auri was doing, and we learned something about Bosmer culture we had not yet been privy to. Auri was cutting into the bandit chief's chest and removing his heart.

"What in blazes do you think you're doing?!"

Auri seemed confused by his sudden outrage, the plain innocence in her face making a stark contrast to her hands which were slick with blood. 

"Auri," Lucien interjected. "Those... rumors about the Bosmer being... cannibals. Those are just rumors right?"

"Cannibals?!" Kaidan said in disgust.

Auri looked to the three of us with hurt eyes. "No that's true." She answered. "It's called the Meat Mandate. It's part of the Green Pact. Y'ffre commands the Bosmer that every enemy killed must be eaten within three days of a battle."

"You're not going to eat that man!" Kaidan growled.

"Well no, there's far too many. But I should at least try to consume a little like the heart or the liver. I can only pray that pleases Y'ffre."

"You're not going to do it at all!" Kaidan's face by now had grown red with indignation. "That's indecent! It's disgusting!"

"Now, now," Lucien tried to calm him. "It's part of their culture, we shouldn't judge." Though I could see in his face his stomach must have been turning.

Auri's nose wrinkled into a scowl. "You don't have to watch if it disgusts you so. But in Valenwood this is how we honor our kills. Both the prey we hunt, and our enemies. Y'ffre demands that the Bosmer should not dishonor their kills by leaving them to rot in the earth."

"So you'll desecrate their remains instead! That's bloody lunacy!" He turned to me. "You're not going to allow this are you?"

I took a moment to respond. Truth be told I am not comfortable with the notion, but I also could not condemn Auri. These bandits were already dead. If this was truly a tradition of Valenwood, their way of honoring the dead, do I have a right to make Auri feel shame for being who she is? I know what that's like better than anyone.

"Lucien's right Kaidan. It's not our way, but we don't get to dictate another's path. Any "true" Nord of Skyrim distrusts me for my magic and the mer features of my face. And the Thalmor brutalize any who worship Talos or disagree with their tenets. Would you follow their example?"

Kaidan's reddish brown eyes burned into me. "Don't you dare compare me to that scum. This is different."

"How?" I asked. When he had no answer for me, he stormed off. We decided to make camp. As I write I've also taken time to study the enchantment of the mysterious red battle-axe. From what I can tell, it strikes fear into the foes of the one who wields it. There's an odd Nordic character on its haft which Lucien tells me roughly translates to "Hatred." Oh what a perfect end to an already miserable day! This had better not be a sign!

**Entry Forty-Seven**

We weren't able to reach Orphan Rock today. It's probably my fault. The path I led us down had us give the wreckage of Helgen a wide berth. I'm just not ready to go back there. Even with my newfound courage and focus, the black dragon still haunts my dreams, as do the screams of the dead I watched being burned alive in their homes. My companions must have sensed my apprehension for they didn't comment on our direction. Or perhaps the tension between Kaidan and Auri is still too thick for them to speak. Even Lucien has been more reticent. 

It's more than the memory that shakes me whenever Helgen is mentioned though. It's the weight of it. My destiny as Dragonborn still has yet to reveal itself, but I know it has something to do with the return of the dragons. And I have faced two. The first I fled from as fast as I could. The second I defeated with Irileth, Lucien, and a squadron of Whiterun guards at my back. Am I meant to defend Tamriel against their rampant destruction? How am I to accomplish that when every night the whole of Helgen burns around me, my feet rooted to the ground. I'm unable to move. I can scarcely breathe, and then I wake up.

A sudden snowfall forced us to find shelter before reaching Orphan Rock. We decided to make camp in a nearby cave. Greywater Grotto I think it's called. According to the map Lucan talked us into buying anyway. After clearing out the wolves we decided it was the best we could hope for to make camp despite the dank smell. We were just about to clear away the ice on the ground for our bedrolls when we happened upon an unusual find. We found a wooden chest, and inside it was filled almost to bursting with old rusted keys. Who would have hoarded such things? And for what purpose? 

As I said, the keys were rusted and useless save for one. As we rooted through the pile out of curiosity, my fingers brushed against one that sent a magical hum into my fingertips. I pulled it out to reveal a key made of gleaming green moonstone with the carving of an eagle for a handle. Moonstone is what the Altmer use to craft their weapons and armor, and the golden eagle is the symbol of the Aldmeri Dominion which leads Lucien and I to believe this key is of elven make. Lucien was also able to make out the inscription on it in elven script. Just the name Aleksey. The magic I feel on it tells me it's clearly enchanted. I'm not sure what it's enchanted to do, but since it's a key I can venture a guess that it might be a lockpicking tool meant to guide its users hand. If the blood red Battleaxe of Hatred we found yesterday was a bad omen, perhaps this is our good sign to counter it. 

After we'd made camp, Kaidan asked me to come with him to scout the perimeter. Turns out this was just a ruse so he could speak with me alone.

"Do you trust her?" He asked as we walked. 

"Auri? Of course. She just wants to restore the Gildergreen. And she saved my life yesterday. Are you still angry about her... eating habits?" There is no comfortable way of broaching this topic.

"It isn't just that. We barely know a thing about her other than she's from Valenwood."

"And?" I pressed.

"Valenwood is right next door to the Summerset Isles. The Aldmeri Dominion has occupied most of it for years now, and the Thalmor have plenty of Bosmer spies on their payroll."

I rolled my eyes. "Auri? A Thalmor? Who tells great stories and terrible jokes? We both know the Thalmor. She's not one of them."

"Or she's doing a damn good job of hiding it." He said. "She was a little too quick to offer to let us stay with her in Falkreath. And then to come with us all the way to Whiterun just to see a tree."

"A sacred tree." I reminded him. "If she were really Thalmor, she's had plenty of chances to kill us in our sleep. Don't you think she would have done it by now?"

"They didn't kill me right away when they took me. They tortured me for information. I'm a person of interest to them, and you're the bloody Dragonborn. They'd be daft not to be keeping tabs on you." 

I fumbled with the key in my pocket like it was a good luck charm. 

"Or maybe the road just led us to her like it led me to you. Since coming to Skyrim I've done my best to listen to wisdom of the road, and that's what it's telling me. Whatever you think of her, I believe Auri's our friend. If you don't trust her then trust me."

"I do trust you. But we both know your heart gives chances to people that might not deserve it." The faces of Telrav and Saadia flashed through my mind. "She's dangerous. If you say you trust her then fine. But I've seen what she can do with that bow. So until I'm damn positive she's on our side, I'll be keeping a close eye on her. I just hope if the time comes, my blade is faster than her arrow."

And on that grim note we returned to camp.


	28. Ugly Means

**Entry Forty-Eight**

We reached Orphan Rock in the early afternoon: A small plateau in the middle of a wooded valley. And at the top of that plateau was a tree with blood red leaves and blackened blossoms. These witches must have grown it in open mockery of Kynareth. Their grim works were hung all around the grounds. poisonous nightshade flowers grew round about. A dead spriggan lay sprawled upon their foul altar, having already been sacrificed by the evil blade we'd come to claim. The heads of goats and spriggans spitted and displayed atop wooden stakes along with the heads of skeevers! Gods why did this camp have to be surrounded by those dead black beady eyes!

From her position on the plateau, the coven's hagraven matron saw us approach. She shrieked a truly grating call to action. Stealth was not an option. Witches in black robes descended on us with spells of ice and lightning, and from the plateau the hagraven rained fire down on us. But I've been practicing with warding magics for just such a battle. While Kaidan and Lucien engaged her coven on the ground below, Auri took to the trees to cover them with her bow. And with taunts and insults I kept the Hagraven's attention on me. Her fireballs struck against my ward like a hammer to shield. I crested the hill beside the plateau just as my magicka began to wane. There at the top of the hill was a fallen tree that formed a bridge between me and the hagraven. With a cry of "Wuld" I sprinted across, carried in an instant by my thu'um. And there I smote the hag with the blade of Whiterun. After she had fallen, I pried the blackened curved knife she carried from her dead decrepit claws. I knew this had to be Nettlebane. Magic hummed through it deeply. It felt alien to me, but I could tell it was old. Very old. 

We thought of claiming the witch's camp for our own, but Auri was ill at ease on these grounds where the witches had twisted nature for their dark magics. 

"The trees here are wrong." She said. "They stole the trees' voices and slithered into their trunks. Their song... it's evil."

"Oh I don't know." Lucien said. "Clear away the sacrilege here, scrub away the blood there, throw the dead hagraven off the rock and this place could be a bit cozy." Then he brushed against the dead spriggan which jerked into some kind of last death throes, vestiges of the dark magic that had slain it leaving its body in a sickly green cloud. "And that's two for leaving! Any other votes for leaving? Kieran? Kaidan? Leaving? Now? Yes. Let's leave now."

"Three." I replied. "I'm not sleeping where these skeever heads can watch me." 

We made camp in the woods away from Orphan Rock. Lucien and I have been studying Nettlebane. Its blade looks to be made of some type of blackened stone, yet it gleams like steel in the moonlight. Lucien believes it might be made from ebony, that rare black glass-like substance. It's so rare many believe it even today to be the crystallized blood of the gods shed in ancient battles at the creation of Nirn. 

"That certainly fits the description Danica gave us for a weapon older than metal. Doesn't get much older than the gods does it?"

"It's ugly." Auri hissed. "It's an evil thing. I'm not sure this was a good idea."

"Danica said it's the only way to restore the Gildergreen." I replied. "I thought you wanted to save it."

"Not like this. It feels wrong."

"I understand your apprehension Auri." Lucien said, ever the diplomat. "But right now it's the only option we've got."

"Fine. Just put it away. Looking at it makes me ill."

Kaidan chuckled darkly. "This from a woman who ate the heart of a man not two nights past." She glowered at him, but he ignored her. In fact he agreed with her to an extent. "She has a point. Hagravens used that knife to work some dark magics. That kind of evil has staying power. And if it's as old as you say it is, who knows what that blade has done. Don't go handling it too much."

I grow doubtful of this quest. Maybe Auri and Kaidan are right. The cause is a good one, but if the means are so ugly, can our actions undo the good? I prayed to Phynaster, away from the others, but as I did I heard Auri approach. She asked who I was praying to. She's familiar with some of Phynaster's teachings. Though he's worshipped more by Altmer as the hero god of the Summerset Isles, there are some wood elves in Valenwood who revere him as well. She asked if she could kneel with me to pray to Y'ffre so we could honor our gods together. I was taken to temple as a boy to honor the eight divines on a few occasions. Especially when Uncle Meridius felt such a trip might drill some good imperial values into his mongrel nephew. But until tonight I have never prayed to my own god alongside another. I quite liked it, praying with Auri beneath the moon.

"Thank you." She said after we had finished. "For defending me the other day. Kaidan is your friend. That mustn't have been easy."

"He is my friend." I replied. "And he's a good man. Just hard headed. He was raised by Nords after all." We both laughed. "Still, I trust him with my life. The world's just made him hard."

"The world shows cruelty to everyone. You don't have to answer it with cruelty back."

"That's true." I agreed. "He said some things in anger. But my time in the Companions has taught me it's what people do that shows who they really are, more than what they say."

"And what have you seen him do?" 

"Throw me out of an arrow's path. Be patient with me. Listen when I need to be listened to. And take up arms for those who can't defend themselves."

She was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll try to be more patient with him. For your sake. And Lucien's. I rather like Lucien."

"You like making him squirm." I said, recalling Lucien's beet red face when Auri had called him out for staring at her when she believed he wasn't looking.

"You caught me." She laughed her high bird-like laugh. "It's too easy."

We return to Whiterun tomorrow, barring any delays on our journey. What I said about a man's actions may have eased Auri on Kaidan, but it only reminded me of the doubts I'm harboring for this quest. What would Master Arngeir think if he knew we planned to use such a wicked weapon against the bark of a sacred symbol of Kynareth? What would Kodlak say if our deeds did not match the honor of Jorrvaskr? Could such a thing be justified? Even to save the Gildergreen? I pray Phynaster shows me another road.


	29. The Song of the Green

**Entry Forty-Nine**

We departed in the small hours of the morning and made our way back to Whiterun in good time, but still in relative silence. And while Danica was impressed to see we had returned with the weapon, her apprehension at its sight did nothing to assuage my worries. 

"I don't really want to touch that thing." She admitted, and asked if we could handle what came next. Then she told us the location of Eldergleam's sanctuary. On our way out of the temple, we were approached by a Breton pilgrim who had traveled to Whiterun who called himself Maurice Jondrelle. Like Auri, he too had been disappointed to have come all this way to worship beneath the branches of the Gildergreen only to find a lightning blasted husk withering outside the temple. 

"Was I correct in hearing that you four are on your way to the Eldergleam sanctuary?" I admitted we were, though I kept the purpose of our journey to myself. I could feel the dark weight of Nettlebane where it was strapped to the back of my waist. Maurice begged to be taken along, having always dreamed of seeing such a marvel of Kynareth's works, but knew the journey to be dangerous, and himself unskilled in combat. We could find no reason to deny him his request.

"Sounds like he's going with or without us." Kaidan remarked. "Better he come with us then get himself killed on the road somewhere.

Maurice was happy, even eager to make the journey with us, though my shame made me uneasy in his company. What would such a devout follower of Kynareth think when he finally realized what we were journeying to the sanctuary to do? Thankfully he talked more with Auri and Lucien along the way. He's an educated man who had much to discuss with Lucien in the ways of philosophy, and shares a mutual admiration for the beauty of nature with Auri. 

We made the journey east in half a day's time, thankfully unmolested by any danger. When we reached the cave and passed through the veil of mist into the sanctuary, the five of us were in awe. The beautiful glen of flowers and greenery was almost too much for our eyes to take in. And the scent of pine, blossoms, and fresh spring water overwhelmed our senses. And on the highest ledge beneath an opening in the roof of the cave, bathed in warm sunlight was the Eldergleam. The Gildergreen had been beautiful when it blossomed, but the Eldergleam is something else entirely.

"I can't believe I finally made it here." Maurice said in reverence. "It's just like it was in my dreams. The tree, I can almost hear it's heart. Auri, can you hear it? It's beautiful."

"It is." Auri said with tears in her eyes. 

We made our way up the path only to find it barred by the great roots of the Eldergleam. Did it sense our wicked intent when we approached? I could delay no longer. I withdrew Nettlebane from my belt and closed my eyes. I struck the roots before us, and they recoiled into the walls at the blade's merest touch. Auri screamed. I dropped the knife and turned to see her on her knees, her hands clasped to her ears. Lucien and Maurice were trying to console her.

"Auri what is it? Are you alright?" Lucien asked.

Maurice looked to me with fury. "What do you think you're doing? I had no idea you were men of violence!"

"That's got to be the stupidest thing I've heard all day." Kaidan growled. "You knew perfectly well we were 'men of violence.' It's why you asked for our protection. Remember? Did the armory of weapons we're carrying not tip you off?"

"But I never imagined you were capable of... this! What kind of horrible weapon have you brought into this sanctuary? What exactly are your intentions in this sacred place."  
With no more reason to hide, I told Maurice of our quest to revive the Gildergreen. But rather than soothe his anger, Maurice grew even more incensed. "You would violate this marvel of Kynareth's glory to revive that half-breed stump in Whiterun? That's abominable. Barbaric!"

"I'd watch your tongue." Kaidan said in a low voice. "I've grown quite tired of being called barbaric."

"If what you've done to the tree isn't enough, look at what it's done to your companion! She hears the tree's pain as you strike it."

Auri rose to her feet slowly. "It screamed. Kieran, when you cut it, it screamed. Did you hear it? I've never heard the green cry out in such pain. Never."

I knew she was right. When I struck the tree's roots I hadn't heard anything like Auri had, but I had felt the spite from Nettlebane when its tip struck the roots. In my hand, it reminded me of a cruel child who rips the wings off butterflies for amusement. I tucked the evil thing back into its sheath. 

"You're right." I relented. "We can't revive the Gildergreen like this. It's wrong."

Kaidan folded his arms. "Are you sure? It's your call."

"I'm sure." I replied.

"A real shame." Lucien admitted. "If only there were some other way to revive the Gildergreen. It was such a good cause."  
We stood in somber silence for awhile, disheartened that we had come all this way only to return empty handed.

"There may be a way." Maurice said after some contemplation. "Auri, your talk of the Bosmer singing to the green intrigued me. Do you believe you could sing to the Eldergleam?"

Auri nodded. "This tree is as awake as any tree in Valenwood. It's song is strong. But it's too old for me to shape it even if I wanted to."

"Shaping won't be necessary. I only wish you to commune with it. With your songs as a bridge between myself and the tree, as a pilgrim of Kynareth I may be able to convince the tree to help us somehow. Follow me."  
Auri followed close behind Maurice with the rest of us in tow. Then before the great trunk of the mighty Eldergleam he knelt in supplication. "Now Auri, lift your voice and open the way to the tree's heart."

Auri lifted her voice in a haunting melody that stirred our hearts. I could feel a strange vibration in the ground beneath my feet, connecting me, connecting us to the green of this place, to the Eldergleam itself! As Auri's song ended, before our eyes a seed fell from one of the Eldergleam's blossoms and planted itself within the ground. A sprout poked through, and then grew into a sapling.

"The Eldergleam has gifted us with this sapling." Maurice declared, lowering his arms. He sounded weary but there was a smile on his face. "It won't save the old tree, but in time this will grow into a new Gildergreen. You should take it to Whiterun and remind Danica that the true blessings of nature are in rebirth and renewal. Not a slavish maintenance."

"A new Gildergreen seems drastic." Lucien mused. "But it feels right somehow. I think Kynareth would approve."

"I assure you she does." Maurice said. "In a way I envy you. To carry such a direct sign of Kynareth's grace."

"Won't you come back to Whiterun with us?" I asked. 

"No I don't think so. For now I wish to meditate beneath the Eldergleam's branches. Thank you for bringing me here, and allowing me to take part in such a glorious thing."

Auri quietly laid her hand on the trunk of the great tree. "Thank you." She whispered.

But it seemed the Eldergleam had one more gift for us. With a groaning creak it pulled back another of its roots from the back of the cave wall. Behind the root we found a chest, and leaning against it was a beautiful silver shield with a tree carved into its face, reminiscent of the Gildergreen. And within the chest we found a golden mask.

We gathered the sapling from the ground and began to make our way back to Whiterun. I carried the shield which I've chosen to call the Gildergreen Aegis, and Lucien studied the mask on the road. He says it's of Dunmer make, and believes it represents a member of the Tribunal, one of the three former living gods of the Dark Elves of Morrowind before they were made mortal and slain by the Nerevarine in the 427th year of the third era. He's unsure which of the tribunal it depicts, but believes its face most closely resembles carvings of Sotha Sil. As for the sapling, Auri plans to carry it in her arms all the way to Whiterun, whispering, singing, and laughing to it as tenderly as a mother to their child.


	30. Of Men and Mer

**Entry Fifty**

On our way across the hot-springs back to Whiterun, our adventures were plentiful. We caught sight of a wayshrine, something I've made a point of visiting whenever we spot one. But it was no divine altar we came across. It was a shrine to Mannimarco, once a mortal but powerful high-elf necromancer who called himself "The King of Worms." Some time in the third era, by unknown means he ascended to divinity much like Talos during the "Warp in the West." But where Tiber Septim became the hero god of mankind, Mannimarco had become the Necromancer's Moon, or the Revenant, a patron god of necromancers and others who work the dark arts. Two such necromancers we spotted at this very shrine in ritual. attempting to raise the dead. When they saw us they cast spikes of ice and set their undead minions upon us. 

With the four of us they were dealt with easily enough, but the magical lights must have attracted greater danger. A dragon soared from the crest of the high hill to our southeast. A frost dragon by its breath. The second dragon we've engaged in combat since Mirmulnir. It soared overhead, intent to make a meal of us. But we had a sapling, a literal child of the Eldergleam in our charge.

"Victory or Sovengarde!" Kaidan cried.

With lightning and flame, Lucien and I harried it on one side, while Kaidan and Auri shot arrows at it from the other. When it was forced to alight upon the ground, Kaidan slew it with his curved greatsword. And once more, its form was engulfed in flames that swirled around me and into my being. My mind swirled with its memories. This dragon was not as old or as powerful as Mirmulnir, but its being was still an overwhelming presence as it entered me. And from that new understanding I finally understand the meaning of the shout I learned in Shroud Hearth Barrow. By calling upon Kyne, my voice may soothe the wild beasts around me. 

Kaidan watched the dragon's soul enter me with awe. "To see it with my own eyes at last! You really are Dragonborn."

Auri too watched with interest. "So that's how it works. Does it hurt?"  
I admitted it did, but less this time. 

"Then perhaps we should find a place to make camp." Kaidan suggested. "It's growing dark anyway, and you don't look well."

"I think I know a place." I said. The dragon's memories had revealed to me more than just my new understanding of Kyne. It had shown me its nest at the height of the hill called Bonestrewn Crest. And at its crest I had seen a word wall. I could hear its chanting calling to me, pulling me to its ancient message. We ascended the slopes and I approached the wall, letting its glow entrance me and teach me its wisdom. The word I learned was "Fo" which means frost. With it, I can call an icy gale from my Thu'um. And this time I did understand its meaning. I could feel it within me. I issued forth a mighty shout, coating the ground before me in ice. This invigorated me, almost completely healing me of my weariness from absorbing the dragon's soul. 

As I looked over the hill I saw another wayshrine. This one looked far grander than the last: a great circle of stone that may have once been part of a larger structure. I begged that we continue to make camp there instead.

"Please Kaidan." I implored. "One more stop. Then I promise we'll make camp. It's enclosed and defensible. And it gives a good view of our surrounds." 

Kaidan shook his head. "You're a clever one aren't you. Using my own logic against me. Fine, but then we make camp and you rest."

I agreed happily. What a find! This was no single wayshrine, but a circle of seven! This looks to be an an ancient temple to the ancestor gods of the elves. In the center is an altar to Auri-el, the Altmer god of the Sun, and the elven name of Akatosh. And the six other shrines surrounding it are of Magnus, the architect of Nirn and ancient elven god of magic, Syrabane, Trinimac, Y'ffre the wood elven god of stories and Auri's patron, Xarxes the god of secret knowledge and ancestry, and my own patron Phynaster. 

While not a devotee to any of the ancestor gods himself, Lucien was fascinated by the implications of an ancient elven temple existing here in Skyrim, and set himself to recording everything he saw for study. Auri and I were happy to pray at physical altars of our own gods for once. 

Under Uncle Meridius I was raised to feel shame for my elven ancestry. How he resented my mongrel Breton blood and cursed the mer features of my face that are pronounced even for a Breton. With my violet eyes, angular face, and pointed ears. Even as I prayed in secret to Phynaster, I always felt dirty for being what I was. Even without the curses I endured from Uncle Meridius, knowledge of the Great War with the Aldmeri Dominion, and the cruelty of the Thalmor makes it difficult to see my elf blood as a point of pride. But to see this place, these gods venerated for such noble virtues as storytelling and heroism, to pray to them openly and unashamed. For the first time I feel proud to have that blood within me. To celebrate the man and mer within. 

I prayed long and openly to Phynaster in thanks for blessing my path to lead me to such happiness, and such loyal companions that I would gladly give my life for. And for the chance to discover who I truly am for the first time. Not what Uncle Meridius would have made me.

I overheard Auri thanking Y'ffre for intertwining her story with ours, and letting her carry the child of such a beautiful and sacred tree as the Eldergleam in her arms. Lucien meanwhile was excitedly muttering to himself and scribbling notes furiously. We were each so caught up in the moment that none of us had noticed Kaidan withdraw. I spotted him kneeling alone on the hillside outside the shrine, staring out solemnly over the landscape below. He knows Phynaster as my patron god, but beyond that we've never spoken on matters of faith. I don't know if he has his own patron god, and wondered if this temple of elven deities unnerved him. I went to sit beside him and asked him as much.

"No." He replied. "I've yet to see your faith steer you wrong. Any god is worthy of worship so long as they stand for something honorable." There was something hiding behind his words. I could hear a buried memory in them and was reminded how little I know of his past.

"Then what is the matter?" I asked.

"I feel shame." He admitted. "At the way I've behaved. The way I've treated Auri. I've been thinking about what you said. About how our road led us to her for a reason. What happened at the sanctuary. That was a rare beauty. If Auri and Maurice hadn't been there, we would have used that foul blade and taken the sap back to Danica without a second thought. But they were there. And instead of desecrating sacred ground we're carrying a sign of Kynareth back to Whiterun. We got to put some real goodness back in the world today."

I nodded. "So you don't believe she's a Thalmor agent anymore?"

He smiled wryly. "No, she's got too gentle a heart for that. Should've heard some of the things she was saying to that sapling. I don't believe any Thalmor could hold life in such a high regard." He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know if I'll ever be okay with what she does."

"No one's asking you to." I replied. "Just be okay with her."

He smiled. "Aye. I think I can do that."


	31. To Ustengrav

**Entry Fifty-One**

We returned to Whiterun, Auri still cradling the sapling like a babe in her arms. I think she was rather sad to part with it. But think how proud she'll be when we return to Whiterun to see it growing! 

Danica was at first saddened that we'd returned without the Eldergleam sap.

"I can't manage the temple without the support of people who are inspired by the Gildergreen. How is this little sapling going to help me to accomplish that?"  
We told her about everything we'd experienced in the sanctuary, and what Maurice said. Hearing our tale moved her as if she had actually been there.  
"You're right." She admitted. "Forgive me. With all the rabble in the temple it can sometimes be hard to hear Kynareth's winds. Your deeds have humbled me. Death feeds new life. I feel this sapling will one day grow into a beautiful Gildergreen more grand and beautiful than the old. I thank you for this reminder of the blessings of nature."

We get to spend one last night in Jorrvaskr before we set out tomorrow for Ustengrav. All my fears and worries from before have been swept away, and I am so grateful I was able to tell Kodlak a story of our quest I could be proud of. 

"Your deed honors Whiterun lad. And it honors us to have you in our number. You've shown both the wisdom to listen to the voice of the gods, and the voices of comrades you have placed your trust in. As well as the conviction to act on that wisdom and what you know is right. I am proud to call you one of our own."

Hearing that makes my heart swell. Kodlak is a great man, his approval is something I strive for. Again I thank the divines that Auri and Maurice were there that day to open an honorable path for us. Our battle with the frost dragon gives me hope as well. It is a heavy destiny I carry as Dragonborn, but I know I don't bear it alone. My friends are at my side.

Tomorrow we set out for Ustengrav to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and complete my trial as Dragonborn.

**Entry Fifty-Two**

Hit a small detour on our way to Ustengrav. A ruin called Silent Moons had been overrun by a gang of bandits. After ridding the camp of them we did a little exploring. 

At the height of the ruin in an enclosure we found a forge. Their leader, an Argonian mage and amateur enchanter had claimed the camp to study it. We learned what he'd recorded from the notes he had left by his work table. He called it the Lunar Forge and said it was divested of an ancient magic much like the Skyforge at Jorrvaskr. He claims that weapons forged in its fire under the light of the moons possess a special enchantment. They burn enemies with a mysterious green fire so long as the moons are out. We found two such weapons (a mace and a longsword) in our exploration of the site, whether discovered or forged by the bandits we're not sure. 

Within the ruin we claimed another prize stored away in a pouch with some of the bandits ill-gotten gain. A magical ring with a red stone set into it. While wearing it, I feel more in tune with my magicka. This ring and the lunar weapons are good finds that perhaps the museum in Solitude would be interested in. I'm almost as excited to reach there as I am to get to Ustengrav.


	32. The Tomb of Jurgen Windcaller

**Entry Fifty-Two**

Oh to Oblivion with it all! The horn is gone! All this way only to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller taken brazenly by someone who wants to meet the Dragonborn. Why couldn't they just ask?! Hire a courier like everyone else? Vander has shown an uncanny ability to find me literally ANYWHERE! Thankfully the expedition wasn't a complete waste.

We arrived at Ustengrav and encountered draugr within. No real surprise there. We were anticipating that. What did come as a surprise was a cabal of necromancers camped out at the entrance hoping to turn the draugr to their will. What is it about dishonoring the dead for power that some find so attractive? It never seems to help them in the end. Both the draugr and their masters met their end at our blades and magic. 

The crypt itself opened up into an expansive cavern where a waterfall trickled from the walls to a small pond below. I heard the chanting before I saw the word wall by the pond. The word it taught me was "Feim" which I feel means fade. But I have yet to unlock its understanding. 

Beyond the pond we found three stone tablets that glowed when we passed them, and our way barred by three gates. When one of the stones lit up, the corresponding gate would rise. But the stones wouldn't stay lit long enough for us to pass through all three. Seeing that speed was key to our passage, I happened upon an idea. Standing before the first stone, I sprinted past each one. When they were all lit, I cried "Wuld!" Whirlwind Sprint carried me through the three gates where on the other side I found a chain I could pull to lift the gates back up, allowing my companions to pass through easily. 

But Ustengrav had two final defenses for the horn. The entire stone floor beyond was made up of pressure plates. Stepping on some of them caused them to spout geysers of flame while others were simply dormant. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to which ones were fire trapped, and which ones were safe. So it took a great deal of careful trial to find a safe path. That was all undone when an enormous spider and three of its smaller kin descended upon us. Slaying them proved no easy task when we also had the fire trapped floor to contend with. Thank the divines for magic and arrows. 

When the last of the spiders was down, and we had crossed the final threshold we found a gate at the back of the room that led us to an opulent burial chamber. A stone walkway with pools of water on either side led to a grand sarcophagus. Great stone monuments rumbled and rose from the water, arching over the walkway as if to congratulate us for passing the tomb's trial. The sarcophagus itself had runes in the dragon language etched all along its edges, and from the top rose a stone hand reaching for the sky, grasping the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller in its stone fingers. Or at least it SHOULD have! Instead all we found was a note!

"Well that was an anticlimax." Lucien said curtly.

Kaidan struck his fist on the wall. "You've got to be kidding me! We'll be stinking of draugr for weeks! And not even a bloody horn to show for it!"

"Kieran, What does the note say?" Auri asked.

I opened it and read it aloud. "Dragonborn, I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you. Signed 'a friend.'"

"A friend would have hired a courier." Lucien griped. 

So we've failed to retrieve the horn, but did manage to find two other treasures right beside the grave. Leaning against it we found a gleaming sword that for all its age is still sharp and without rust. Behind the altar we found a small pedestal where rested a ring. It's identical to the one the Greybeards gifted me with, but the dragonscript on this one glowed with a soft blue light. When I wear it, I can feel it resonate with the thu'um that slumbers inside my chest. I've yet to test it, but I believe it might increase the power of my thu'um, and perhaps unlock further understanding.

I hesitated to handle these artifacts. Clearly they belonged to Jurgen Windcaller. But Kaidan insisted they might have been meant for me.

"The Greybeards are supposed to guide the Dragonborn. Jurgen Windcaller was their founder. And if you feel their power resonate with your thu'um, maybe that's his way of guiding you. If we're wrong, Arngeir could just tell us to return them."

"That might be especially true for the sword." Lucien remarked, flipping through the pages of one of his books. "I believe the blade is called Gungir. According to legend, Jurgen Windcaller cast his sword aside, and indeed all weapons of war after the Battle of Red Mountain when the Dunmer defeated him and his fellow Nords, forcing them out of Morrowind and back to Skyrim. This event is what led to his founding of the pacifist philosophy of the Way of the Voice, and the Greybeard order. Because he had renounced violence in all its forms, he refused to allow his sword to be interred with him. But it was still his blade, and I doubt his disciples believed anyone else worthy of wielding it. Must be why they left it beside his grave instead. Imagine! This blade has been lying here since the first era, still as sharp as the day he cast it aside!"

"Almost like it was meant for you." Auri agreed.

I felt their words to be true, and with reverence I took the sword and ring in hand. Together we exited the tomb to find that night had fallen so we made camp to plan our next move. And discuss our thoughts on our mysterious "friend."

"Whoever they are, they're clearly dangerous. That tomb was only meant to be reached by someone who could use the thu'um." Kaidan speculated. "So either they have it, or they're clever enough to outmaneuver age old magic. Not to mention make it past all the draugr and traps. If they try anything, we should be ready."

"Must you always assume the worst Kaidan?" Lucien asked. "Maybe the note's sincere and they really are friendly. Did you think of that?"

"Brynjar always used to say, if you're not a little paranoid, you're not paying attention."

"Are you always so serious?" Auri asked.

"As opposed to what?"

"Do you know any jokes?"

Kaidan chuckled. "I know of them."

My interest peaked. I told him to give it a go.

He sighed and said "Alright. What do you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question?"

"What?" We all asked. But rather than answer, Kaidan just stared at us blankly. After a moment, Lucien rolled on the ground laughing. I rolled my eyes.

"That was terrible."

"You asked for it." He replied with a smile.

Solitude is a short journey to the northwest. In the morning we'll head there to follow up on the relic hunter job the museum sent to Jorrvaskr. Our "friend" in Riverwood will have to wait.


	33. Solitude

**Entry Fifty-Four**

On the way to Solitude we came across another wayshrine and a standing stone. This one stands for the Apprentice. I think this marks four of the thirteen signs we've come across? To think in such a short time I've gone so far across Skyrim. So much has happened. The wayshrine Auri tells me is meant to venerate Baan Dar, a trickster god of the Kahjiit and the Bosmer.

"In Valenwood," She explained "Being a good thief is considered a virtue. If you steal an item from another without being caught, you can charge a payment for the item's safe return."

"The more I learn about your people, the more intrigued I become." Lucien said, to which Auri merely giggled.

**Entry Fifty-Five**

We passed through the gates of Solitude in the early morning. Their high walls and towers flying the red wolf banners proudly. 

"There it is boys!" Lucien cried with excitement. "You're going to love it here. The capital city of Skyrim! The shops, the architecture, the history, I haven't even mentioned the food. And oh look! Seems there's already a gathering of sorts. Wonder what they're..." He cut off as the scene in the square unfolded. "Oh dear."

There was a gathering of townspeople in the square, but it wasn't a celebration they had gathered for. It was an execution. A man in rags was being led onto a platform where a headsman's block awaited him. A man I would come to know as Captain Aldis, the captain of the city guard read the charges this man was being condemned for.

"Roggvir, you stand charged with aiding and abetting known usurper, traitor, and kingslayer Ulfric Stormcloak. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape the city after he murdered High King Torygg. In disgrace of the trust you held as a city gate guard, you opened that gate for Ulfric and betrayed the people of Solitude." This declaration was met with curses of "traitor" and other foul things from the crowd.

"There was no murder!" Roggvir cried. "Ulfric challenged Torygg! He beat the High King in fair combat! Such is our way! Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!"

His sentiment fell on deaf ears. When Captain Aldis lowered him onto the block, he put up no resistance. The crowd fell silent, and I heard him whisper something. But we were too far away to make out the words. Then the executioner raised his axe. With one swing it was over. 

I turned to Auri whose elven ears are far sharper than mine and asked if she had heard what Roggvir had said.

"He said, 'on this day, I go to Sovengarde.'"


	34. Good and Honorable

**Entry Fifty-Six**

Roggvir's execution had been a dour first sight. Kaidan, sensing the melancholy air picked perhaps the worst time to develop a sense of humor.

"That's no way to get ahead in life." He said, looking to us with a guilty smile. He cleared his throat when he saw the looks we were giving him.  
"Too soon?"

Lucien looked horrified. "What is the appropriate amount of time for that joke to ever be funny?"

Kaidan nodded. "Too soon."

As the crowd dispersed, I drew to Captain Aldis to ask what the execution had been for.

"I see you are new to our city." He said. "Still, it's hard to believe you haven't heard the news. The Stormcloak Rebellion started right here in this very city when Ulfric Stormcloak murdered our High King. He challenged High King Torryg to single combat, but when the king drew his blade, Ulfric used the Voice and shouted him apart. It was a dark day for Solitude. For all of Skyrim. And executing Roggvir was not my finest hour. He was good and honorable man."

"Then why execute a good honorable man?" Auri mused.

"As a soldier, you do what needs to be done. You don't have to hate a man to kill him. Though admittedly... it helps."

"Do you think what he did was right?" I asked, unable to forget the conviction Roggvir had carried right up to the end.

"No. I think he was entirely wrong. Roggvir's execution was justified and necessary. Being honorable might make you a good man, but it doesn't make you right. Be a better world if it did. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to training the recruits."

The world is a confusing place. My heart tells me Aldis is a good man. But it also tells me Roggvir was a good man. But I thought goodness was defined by the rightness of your actions. How could they both be right? Since Helgen, I've spared not a thought for the civil war that divides this country. It seemed such a far off matter in Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf thus far has managed to keep his people out of the struggle. But here in Solitude, Skyrim's Imperial capital, it seems to enflame the passions of everyone I pass. 

I remember Ralof. Ralof is a good man. And I remember you Uncle. You are a good man. But this war would demand one of you kill the other. Who is right? The rebels for fighting for defending their traditions? Their way of life? Or are those who side with the empire right in fighting for unity and the safety of its people? Was it right of the emperor to concede to this costly peace with the Dominion? It ended the Great War and saved countless lives, but was it worth allowing the Thalmor free reign to make Imperial citizens disappear because of the gods they choose to worship? 

"Hey." Kaidan approached me after we'd settled into the Winking Skeever Inn. "You alright?"   
I told him of all the worries Roggvir's execution had ignited. He seemed to understand   
"Aye, I figured as much. You've got too kind a heart for your own good sometimes." 

I asked if he believed either side was right. 

"They're both right." He answered. "And they're both wrong. I know it doesn't make any sense. Sometimes right and wrong are better left to the gods to sort out. But if Roggvir really followed his heart and did what he felt a true Nord would do when he opened that gate for Ulfric, then you don't need to worry for him. He's being welcomed into Shor's hall in Sovengarde right now. Probably raising a mug of mead with his ancestors as we speak."

His words for Roggvir brought me a little comfort, but the rest of these matters are too weighty for me tonight. I think I'll rest now. We can go to the museum in the morning. I know it's barely midday, but I feel so heavy.


	35. Radiant Raiment

**Entry Fifty-Seven**

I found it hard to rouse myself from bed this morning, still feeling much like I had after the execution. Probably sensing my dour mood, Auri knelt by my bedside with a smile.

"Not enjoying your Solitude my friend?" She giggled. "I'm funny."  
I couldn't help a weak smile at that.   
"Come on, let's get something to eat. I'm starving."

"You go." I said. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Don't forget," Lucien reminded us "We have an appointment to keep with the curator of the museum."

Auri mused to herself for a bit before saying "That can wait. For now I think we could all do with a bath. We've been on the road for days now. Believe me, we don't smell all that... fresh."

Lucien crinkled up his nose as if realizing her point for the first time. "You have a fair point. Can't very well show up for a job posting smelling of musty crypt air and draugr. We're representing the Companions after all."

Kaidan rolled his eyes. "Oh aye, because the warriors of Jorrvaskr are known for smelling like lavender at all times."

"It'll be good for all of us." Auri went on "Some fresh new clothing might not hurt either. Especially you Kaidan. I don't think I've ever seen you out of that armor. Lisette, the bard that was performing here last night says that Radiant Raiment has fine clothing at a bargain."

I sat up when I caught onto what she was doing.  
"You just want a new dress don't you."

She gave me a wry grin. "You caught me."

Kaidan guffawed loudly. "A dress? You?"

"What? I can want nice things."

"We're a bit short on gold." I remarked. "But maybe we can trade in some of these gems."

"Oh very well." Lucien relented. "But so long as we're here we may as well take advantage of all the sights of Solitude."

"Where did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Why the Bard's college of course!"

"Gonna hone your instrument?" Kaidan said skeptically.

"I'll have you know I've been making great strides as a musician." 

"Well don't let me stop you. Go make those court ladies swoon."

"Thank you. I will."

"Anywhere you'd like to see Kai?" I asked.

"Castle Dour maybe. I'd like a look at what passes for training in the Imperial Legion these days."

We spent the morning over breakfast plotting our course through the city. Our first stop: Radiant Raiment.

**Entry Fifty-Seven**

Radiant Raiment certainly lives up to its name in wares and appearance if not manners. The store is run by two Altmer sisters, Taarie the eldest, and her younger sister Endarie. The moment we stepped in Taarie was upon us.

"If you're headed to the Blue Palace you may want to rethink that outfit."

"I... I... how rude!" Lucien stammered. 

"We never said we were going to the Blue Palace." I pointed out.

Taarie waved the notion off. "Don't be silly darling. Anyone who's anyone makes it a point to meet with the Jarl on their visit to Solitude. And you four clearly aren't just anyone. You carry yourselves with far too much importance to be mere vagabonds. A shame those old rags don't match your stature."

Kaidan folded his arms defensively. "Do you always insult people when you first meet them?"

"It's not an insult. It's an observation. Were I walking around with an open wound I'd want you to tell me to see a doctor. Your wardrobe is something of an open wound."

Auri stroked her chin, a knowing glint in her eye. "What would you suggest we wear to the Blue Palace?"

"Oh I have just the thing in mind for you my dear. Something exotic and slimming to compliment your natural Bosmer grace and bring out the fiery red of your hair. Your Breton friend there would do well in something that could make his chest and shoulders seem more prominent. Perhaps with a magenta or violet to compliment his eyes, and gold embroidery to catch the attention of any court ladies. And you there," She approached Lucien. "I can tell by your speech and manner that you're from Cyrodiil, and no stranger to high society. Am I correct?"

He blushed. "I... well, yes I suppose,"

"Excellent. You I believe could pull off a more forward expression of fashion. There's a new style from High Rock we've been trying our hand in. It's a bold new look that can only favor the most suave of gentleman." Lucien was clay in her hands.

"As for you, my tall taciturn friend." She circled Kaidan like a vulture. "Your features are quite striking. Exotic even. Something more understated, in darker earth tones perhaps. That should draw more attention to your natural assets. Yes I believe we could fix the four of you right up to be the envy of all at court. Why I'm sure Jarl Elisif the Fair herself will be demanding to know who outfitted you with such finery."

That's when Auri's eyes lit up. She'd caught onto something the rest of us had missed.

"Oh you're a shrewd one aren't you. Do you sweet talk all your customers into currying favor with the Jarl for you?"

Taarie feigned shock at the implication but only half-heartedly and with a smile. "You cut me to the quick my dear. My words come from the heart."

"Tell you what." Auri offered. "You give me a dress. I'll walk right up to Jarl Elisif, and anyone else at court for that matter and get their opinion on it. And if they like it, I'll casually mention it's from Radiant Raiment."

"Oh but you are a clever one. And what would you ask in return?"

"I get to keep the outfit. And my friends get one of their own at a discount."

Taarie grinned. "I like the way you think darling. You have a deal. Let us get the four of you sized up."

"Oh lovely." Endarie, the younger sister groaned. "Tell me Sister dear, will your vanity be satisfied only after it's landed us in the gutter? Or will it settle for the two of us losing this shop?"

"My dear baby sister," Taarie said in an elegant but oh so condescending tone. "What have I always told you about our business?"

"Leave the customers to you, and focus on my needle." Endarie replied dryly.

"Well there you have it. Your elder sister knows best. Now chop chop."


	36. The Sights of Solitude

**Entry Fifty-Eight**

After more measuring and sizing than I was comfortable with, Endarie had outfitted me in what I must admit is a striking ensemble of black and magenta with gold brocade. It does feel a bit tight around the chest which Endarie bluntly told me is the point. She lacks the sly charm and social grace of her elder sister, and seems to have little to no patience with customers. I'd say she's in the wrong line of work if she weren't so obviously proficient with the needle. 

Lucien was outfitted with something I found very strange. Taarie assures us it's a "bold modern style." They even styled his hair into something equally "bold." He seemed pleased with it, admiring himself from all angles in the looking glass.  
"Fathers lock up your daughters tonight. Lucien Flavius is going out on the town."

Kaidan didn't seem as enthusiastic about his new gear: black leather trousers and a shirt of black silk under a fur vest. He shifted uncomfortably and tugged at it.

"I much prefer a skin of steel, not leather." He admitted. "And these laces are enough to drive a man mad. Never understand court ladies if this is what they find appealing."

"Believe me Kaidan," Auri interjected, "Taarie knows what she's doing." Her eyes glided over the opening in the shirt where Kaidan's well muscled chest peeked out from behind the crisscrossing laces, and then circled shamelessly to look at him from behind. "It's showing off all your best assets." Kaidan could only cough in surprise and try to shrink into a corner.

Auri, who has the most important job in this venture clearly got the most attention. The sisters draped her in blue silk that falls loosely over her slight elven form, embroidered with gold and held together with clasps made from pearl and small gemstones. 

"Does it suit me?" Auri asked me when she'd been fitted. And I couldn't disagree.

"Very much." I replied, realizing I was in much better spirits than I had been in this morning. Had that been her intention all along when she suggested we take in the sights? Clearly Taarie isn't the only shrewd elf we need to watch out for. 

I extended my arm to her. "My lady."

She laughed her songbird laugh. "My lord."

Then we left the shop arm in arm. Seeing this, Lucien extended his own arm to Kaidan with a wicked grin.

"My lady?" He said, to which Kaidan could only glower before following us out. "I'll win you over yet." Lucien declared. 

Next stop, the Bard's College.

**Entry Fifty-Nine**

On our way down the streets of Solitude, our new gear turned quite a few heads. I swear I caught Lucien strutting and waving as we passed the onlookers. Kaidan on the other hand kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not to meet anyone's gaze. I hope he gets used to it soon. He can say whatever he likes, Auri's right. Being out of his armor for awhile will do him some good. 

Lucien inhaled deep through his nose as we stepped inside the Bard's College. 

"Ah I do love that musty book smell. Fewer things on earth bring me more comfort. Imagine it! All of Skyrim's history compiled in this very building. The tales of heroes, the legends of kings! Isn't it exciting!"

"I won't argue with you there Lucien." Kaidan agreed. "Stories and songs are the treasure of generations. Wish we could spend more time here, learning them all."

"I'm quite eager to see how the great storytellers of Skyrim compare to ours in Valenwood." Auri added.

"I could spend days here reading." I admitted before we were approached by a tall lanky Altmer with a shock of blond curls that seemed to be sticking straight up. He introduced himself as Viarmo, the headmaster of the college.

"Always a pleasure to meet prospective bards."

"Oh, sorry." I tried to correct him. "We... we're not prospective bards."

"Nonsense. Any who walk the lands of Tamriel have stories to tell. Whether their stories are preserved and passed on to future generations is a matter of their diligence and skill in the telling. As it so happens, I have some spare time. Why don't I show you fine gentlemen and lady around the facility."

"Oh we'd like that very much!" Lucien exclaimed. He was correct, the college has an extensive library. We were also able to sit in on a musical lesson. I've faced draugr, bandits, and even dragons. But it must take a different kind of courage for these bards to stand before their peers and perform. Especially for a master as stern as Inge Six-Fingers. I watched her wrap a poor girl on the knuckles with a stick mid-song for her breathing technique. 

"So my prospective newcomers, perhaps I've peaked your interest enough that you'll hear out a small request from a humble bard."  
We must look like a very capable team. No one seems to hesitate to ask dangerous tasks of us.

"Are you familiar with the Burning of King Olaf? It's a festival we hold every year at the college. King Olaf was a rightly unpopular king, and every year we hold a festival to burn him in effigy. Or at least we used to."

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't Olaf One-Eye the legendary hero king who defeated the dragon Numinex?"

"Ah! I knew you for a historian when you walked through the door. Yes indeed legend says he faced Numinex atop Mount Anthor and used the Thu'um to drive the dragon into a trap. Numinex remained trapped for the rest of his living days, and the people built a keep around him, naming it Dragonsreach. Olaf was named High King of Skyrim for this deed, and legend says Numinex's skull remains above the throne of Dragonsreach in Whiterun to this day."

"That's not a legend." I told him. "The skull is there. I've seen it. So why the burning of King Olaf?"

"Well you see," Viarmo went on "There are some disputes to the validity of the details of that battle. Olaf's supposed witnesses are said to have grown obscenely wealthy after the fact, giving rise to rumor that he had bribed them to paint a heroic picture of his deeds. Couple that with his later invasion and conquering of the Reach to expand Skyrim's boundaries and there were more than a few who were willing to defame his name. The Burning of King Olaf became a celebration of the people of Solitude and a condemnation of false kings in the years following his death. It's been that way for ages until recently."

"You've stopped having the festival?" Auri asked.

"By order of Jarl Elisif the Fair, High King Torryg's widow. In light of her husband's grisly murder she finds the burning of a king, even in effigy... distasteful. Not that I can blame her. I've tried to convince her of its meaning as a celebration of the people, but so far she's remained unmoved by my pleas. It wasn't until recently that Giraud Gemane, our Dean of History came across a discovery that might shift her view on the matter. He believes he's found the location of King Olaf's lost verse of the Poetic Edda."

"The Poetic Edda?" I asked.

"Peaked your interest have I? Haha! Giraud could tell you more. Follow me to his chambers."

He led us to the quarters of the Dean of History who was ecstatic to hear that Viarmo had at last procured some eager "volunteers" to retrieve the verse. He was more than happy to answer my questions about the Edda. According to him its an ancient collection of poems and verses which he called the living history of Skyrim. Some believe all the works of bards belong to the Edda.

"Every bard contributes to it in their time. King Olaf's lost verse was the bard Svaknir's contribution to the Edda. Olaf was so incensed by Svaknir's criticism, he ordered the bard put to death and all the copies were burned. At least that's what we thought until I translated some ancient texts a year or so ago. We now believe King Olaf buried the truth with the bard. If I'm right, Svaknir and King Olaf's Verse lie in Dead Man's Respite along with the burial chamber of King Olaf himself! It's a ruin, a short journey to the southeast of here. Even if it doesn't change Jarl Elisif's mind on the festival, we shouldn't leave it lying there now that I've figured out where it is."

The four of us withdrew from Giraud and Viarmo to discuss their proposition. 

"A lost verse of ancient history?" Lucien beamed. "How could we pass that up?"

"Sounds like a good story." Auri agreed. "And if it brings back a festival, that sounds like a bonus."

"Then we're in agreement?" I asked. "We're retrieving the verse?"

"With you all the way." Kaidan replied, a slight tremor of excitement in his voice. "But before we go, don't forget we initially came here to do a job. We should at least stop by the museum before we depart.

Viarmo and Giraud were overjoyed to hear we would be taking them up on their proposition. 

"If your expedition is successful, the Jarl might be persuaded to donate a sizable contribution to the college. A portion of the proceeds would go to you of course, as the ones who actually retrieved the verse."

We accepted his promise of payment gladly. Our next stop is the museum.


	37. The Dragonborn Gallery

**Entry Sixty**

As we approached the museum, I took notice of the sign beside the great arched gate and froze.  
"Dragonborn Gallery." It read. In our entire journey here I had not thought to question the purpose of the museum.

Auri wondered aloud as she read the sign. "A museum all about you?"

"I doubt that." I said. "I'm hardly the only Dragonborn to have ever lived. Maybe it's a museum to honor the heirs of Alessia like Reman Cyrodiil or Tiber Septim."

"Indeed," Lucien agreed. "There are three entire dynasties of Dragonborn Emperors that we know of spanning millennia. Why Potema Septim once ruled Skyrim from this very city, although that's not exactly the most glorious example of the Septim bloodline. Still, it seems you're a part of this gallery's legacy now Kieran. Who knows what insights this place could have. They might have some lore collected here on past Dragonborns that even the Greybeards don't have. Learning from the 'Dovahkiin' of the past could be the key to puzzling out your own destiny. They might even be able to tell you more about your... um... unique magical signature."

"You mean my runes." I said.

"I still don't get what all the fuss is about." Auri commented. "Magic just looks the same to me, all those lights and loud noises. Whizz! Bang! Pew pew! Yours is just a little... fancier."

Kaidan cut us off before we could be distracted further. "Before we speculate too much, let's find out about the job the curator wanted us for."

"Wanted me and Kieran for. You two aren't Companions. Remember?" Lucien pointed out, purposely forgetting that technically he or I weren't full Companions yet either.

"Oh is that right?" Kaidan said with a scowl. "Then perhaps Auri and I will just pack up and leave you Companions to it. Good luck in the next crypt."

"No wait!" Lucien cried as Kaidan turned to leave. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way. Don't leave Kaidan! Auri! Please!"

The museum's exterior was a grand sight, a mighty stone edifice with a great arched gate. The keystone of the arch was carved in the shape of a dragon's skull. Stepping through the doors showed us the interior didn't quite match its outer grandeur. At least from what we were able to see. We were only able to make it into a sort of entry foyer before being barred by a velvet rope and curtain, and a notice that read: "Gallery opening soon, pending arrival of displays."

Hearing our arrival, the curator appeared from behind the curtain. He was a tall Altmer with a swept feathering of white blond hair.

"Can I help you?" He asked, and we introduced ourselves as the Companions inquiring about the relic hunter position. 

"Ah yes, my advertisement! So pleased to see it caught the eye of such esteemed adventurers as the Companions of Jorrvaskr. My name is Auryen Morellus, and I am the curator of this museum. Though at present we're lacking in displays. As it so happens, I'm hoping you could help me retrieve three artifacts that were meant to arrive here prior to our grand opening." 

The first of the items he asked us to retrieve are Dagoth's Sixth House Bellhammer, a Dunmer artifact that was reported stolen enroute from Morrowind and is now held by a gang of bandits in a cave called Broken Helm Hollow in the Rift.  
The second was part of a collection of items being shipped from Hammerfell, a jade figurine of a warrior. The caravan transporting it was waylaid by Forsworn in the Reach. I haven't heard that term before. A new gang of bandits trying to make a name for themselves perhaps?  
The third is Denstagmer's Ring, another Dark Elf artifact stolen by bandits he believes to be in Silent Moons Camp. Hearing that, I excitedly held up the red ring we had found in that very ruin on our way to Ustengrav. He shook his head, saying what I wore was called "The Ring of Transmutation." He was interested nonetheless and hoped he could convince me to part with it. I said I'd think about it, having grown quite fond of the increased magical power its given me.

"It's up to you if you believe the Silent Moons Camp is worth a second investigation. But don't fret if you find they'd already fenced it before you arrived. Still, if you managed to clear out an entire camp of bandits, the other two artifacts should be a snap for you to retrieve. I look forward to your return. If you'll excuse me, there are matters in my office that require my attention. Off you go then. And thank you ever so much for your interest in the gallery." And then he was off before we could even settle on a payment for the job, or ask anymore questions regarding the gallery.

"Rather abrupt fellow isn't he." Lucien remarked when we had made our exit.

"You keep using that word Lucien." Auri said. "When I think what you really mean is rude."

"Oh no, I wouldn't say that. We academic types can be rather... eccentric. My father has a similar manner when engaged in his studies. But you'll never find a more amiable chap."

Returning to our room at the Winking Skeever, we charted a course for the three artifacts Auryen tasked us with retrieving. We're likely to head to the Reach first, something I've hoped to do for some time. It is where my parents met after all. From there we'll head to Silent Moons Camp and see if there were any stashes of plunder we overlooked. Hopefully Denstagmer's Ring is among them. That should put us a day's ride from Riverwood where we can track down whoever stole the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. The Bellhammer will take us a considerable distance. The Rift is the easternmost region of Skyrim, the literal opposite side of our current location. None of us save Kaidan have been there before. He assures us he enjoys the Rift better than anywhere in Skyrim. It boasts pine forests and plentiful wilds. Should be a fun trip. But first we need to gear up and head to Dead Man's Respite. We have a lost verse to reclaim and a festival to save. Divines, Viarmo will make bards of us yet.


	38. Dead Man's Respite

**Entry Sixty-One**

We passed through the town of Dragon Bridge on our way to Dead Man's Respite. We weren't able to linger in the town itself, but seeing its namesake was worth the trip alone. A true marvel of engineering, a massive stone bridge that arched the gap over the scenic waterfalls beside the town. Either side of the bridge sported rows of stone columns, the tallest of which at the bridge's crest supported a carving of a dragon's skull as tall as two men! 

  
  


We came across another wayshrine a short ways outside Dragon Bridge. This one was built lovingly by hand to resemble a hearth, and on its mantle sat the skull of a stag. Auri says it venerates Z'en the Bosmer god of agriculture and commerce. They sound very similar to, yet distinct from Zenithar of the eight divines. We took a moment to meditate beside it. It brings Auri joy whenever we have a chance to come across reminders of her home in Valenwood.

**Entry Sixty-Two**

We found Dead Man's Respite as the last rays of sunlight were fading. Kaidan suggested it might be a good time to make camp, and that we delve into the ruin in the morning. But I was far too eager at the thought of a lost verse of history being right under our feet. As he and I debated back and forth, Auri held up her hand to quiet us, her eyes staring into the ruin intently.

"Do you hear that?" She asked. "Music."

"Auri I doubt the Green is singing to you from within a burial chamber." Kaidan said.

She shushed him. "It's not a treesong. It's... a lute." Without waiting for us, she stepped into the barrow. 

As we followed her through the tunnel and into the earth, we found that we too could hear the music. It was a soft melody that grew louder the more we descended. The tunnel opened up into a foyer. The passage beyond was barred by a gate, but standing before the bars was a ghostly presence. A man bathed in blue aetherial light. He looked much like Wyndelius had in Ivarstead, but I knew this was no illusion. The specter's feet didn't touch the ground and I could see right through him. He said nothing, merely stared and nodded with a smile at our approach. In his hands he held a lute on which he played the melody that had led us inside.

On a great stone table before him in the center of the chamber sat another dragon claw key, this one red as the sunset and set with ruby crystals. The ghost's eyes drifted from us to the claw and back again.

"I think he wants us to take it." Lucien suggested. He reached forth and removed the claw. When he did, he released a pressure plate beneath it. At its release, the bars behind the ghost flew open. The phantom's lute vanished and he departed down the corridor beyond. 

"I think he wants us to follow him." I said.

Kaidan already had his blade drawn, and he and Auri were drawing close together, back to back.

"He'll have to wait." He said as I became aware of what stirred around us. Removing the ruby claw had opened the gate, but it had also awoken the draugr. I bathed Gungir in sacred fire and the four of us did battle at each other's backs and facing outward. When they had been dealt with, we took the path the spirit had taken before us. As we rounded each corner into a new chamber, we would catch glimpses of his passing into another. Through draugr and traps he led us, always blinking out of view when we thought we had caught up with him. Our path led us to a hermetically sealed door that glowed with a strange purple barrier. Neither mine nor Lucien's magic could pierce it. 

We believed ourselves at a dead end until Auri caught sight of our spirit guide disappearing through a side passage. We followed it to a chamber where a barred grate covered a hole in the center of the floor. A chain on the side released the grate and allowed us to descend a winding wooden ramp. Kaidan remained at the top since his considerable weight was likely to snap the planking beneath our feet. The passing of ages had rotted the wood to where even light-footed Auri needed to step carefully. When we reached the bottom we saw nothing. Until a rumbling in the wall drew our eyes. The very wall opened before us, and beyond it was a small alcove. 

Lain unceremoniously within the alcove was a dried out husk of a corpse, and sitting on a stone beside the corpse was our ghost. Again he said not a word, but his eyes drifted from us to the body. There, nestled in its dried dead hands was a book, somehow preserved against the passage of time. I lifted it from its long dead protector's grasp ever so carefully, fearing my mere touch would crumble its pages to dust. I read the inscription in its leather bound cover 

"Vers Olafs Konungs."

"That's it!" Lucien cried. "In ancient nordic, it means the Verse of King Olaf!"

"Then our friend there..." Auri said of the ghost.

"Svaknir." I finished her thought. But our friend had vanished again. 


	39. The King and the Bard

In the alcove we spied another hidden treasure: a seamless strongbox. Inside we found a ring with a garish yellow stone set into it. Lucien's been able to translate the markings on the inside of its band. 

"Rough translation, it says 'surrounds.'" Some experimentation reveals it to muffle the footsteps of its wearer. We've given it to Kaidan since he has the hardest time of the four of us moving silently.

"I'm a practiced hunter." He would tell us later. "I can move quietly when I need to."

Auri replied by walking in a stiff exaggerated manner and shouting "Clank! Clank!"

Holding our prizes aloft, we returned to where Kaidan awaited us. Thinking our quest complete, we doubled back through the passage. But when we came back to the sealed door, once more we saw the ghost of the bard Svaknir. With a wave of his hand, the glowing barrier vanished and the double doors flew open. Svaknir raced past them and vanished into a stone wall. We followed his path which led to a claw door. This must have been what the ruby claw was intended to open. The combination in its palm read wolf, eagle, wolf.

"Those animals are both symbols of Solitude." Lucien remarked. "Do you think, beyond this door is..."

I recalled what Giraud had told us at the college, his theories on Dead Man's Respite. 

"King Olaf's burial chamber." I breathed. 

With the claw in hand and the symbols arranged in their order, we lowered the stone door. Beyond we found a three-tiered chamber. At its height was a stone sarcophagus. On the platform just below it were four thrones, a draugr sitting in repose in each of them. And on the lowest tier we found ourselves surrounded by identical thrones where in each sat a draugr. They did not stir as we entered, but the sight was unnerving. A deathly theater of a king's court where the dead sat propped in their grim roles. But what was more, the moment we entered the chamber, my mind was filled with the chant of old. A word wall was awaiting us at the highest tier!

In the center of the lowest tier, Svaknir appeared, sword in hand. For the first time since guiding us through the tomb, he lifted his voice which echoed all around the stone walls. He raised his blade and issued a challenge.

"Olaf! It is time!" 

At his words, the chamber rumbled, and the draugr around us in the lowest thrones stirred. They surrounded us and fell on us with their rusted ancient blades. But in our formation we felled them as they approached with spell and arrow. And when they drew near, Lucien, Kaidan, myself, and Svaknir slew them at the edge of our blades. When the last of the grim courtiers had fallen, Svaknir ascended the steps to the second tier and issued a second challenge.

"Arise Olaf! My vengeance is at hand!" 

A second time the chamber rumbled, and the four draugr rose from their thrones. These were mightier than those we had faced below, harrying us with weapons and spells of ice. The cold sapped our might and left me with scarcely the strength to lift my sword. So we answered their frost with my lightning and Lucien's flames. When the last of the four fell, Svankir climbed the final steps to where the sarcophogus lay before the word wall, the chanting and drums of the ancients growing louder and louder. Svaknir leveled the tip of his blade at the sarcophogus and cried a final challenge of "Olaf!"

With a mighty crack, the stone lid was thrown open, and a draugr adorned in blackened armor and a horned helm arose. It looked through us to Svaknir with a single glowing blue eye, and it spoke. Spoke in our tongue! Never have I heard a draugr speak, but Olaf One-Eye answered Svaknir's challenge with his own voice. Its sound was like bone grating against stone, and carried with it the chill of the grave.

"Insolent bard. DIE!"

From his back he unsheathed a mighty curved greatsword of pure black ebony! With each mighty swing he would knock two of us back, and then I felt the power of his thu'um! Legend says Olaf had been a master of the voice, and I felt this mastery first hand when he unleashed Unrelenting Force.

"Fus Ro Dah!" 

Both Kaidan and I were thrown from our feet and back down the steps. It was as if the thunder of the heavens had struck me in the chest. My thu'um was no match for the ancient king's. But with blood ringing in my ears, and pouring from the wound that had opened in my head, I forced myself to my feet. 

Through the blood that streamed over my eyes I could see Olaf closing the distance between himself and Auri who had remained on the edge of the fray to fill him with arrows. She fired another into his chest, then a second, then a third and a fourth, but still he advanced. Her courage in the face of such desperation roused me to action. Unable to move with any speed, I lashed his back with lightning and took slow painful steps toward him. He rounded on me and charged with his blade, a great black crescent intent on taking my head even as he walked through the sparks of my spell.

Then Svaknir threw himself between us, locking his blade with that of his old enemy. He groaned as my magic burned into him. I ceased my assault, but he berated me even as Olaf's strength pushed him to his knees.

"Despair not for the dead!" He cried. "His strength wanes! Arise noble bards and let this day be yours! For the people of Solitude!"

With a cry of "Fo!" I used the ice of my own thu'um to drain the strength of Olaf's arms, and resumed my stream of lightning. Svaknir cried out once more as my lightning arced through and around him to Olaf, but held his ground all the same. From behind, Auri struck Olaf's back with a volley of arrows. Then from both sides, Lucien and Kaidan closed in with their swords. Olaf fell between them.

His form fading, Svaknir rose to back to his feet. Once more, his lute appeared in his hands. With the final few chords of his song, a bow, and a smile, he vanished into the great beyond.

Wiping the blood from my eyes, I at last approached the word wall. A new word filled me. For the first time since the Greybeard's teachings at High Hrothgar, I have learned the second word of power in a shout: "Na" which means fury, the second in Whirlwind Sprint. 

We remained in the chamber for a moment to heal and close our wounds with restoration magic.

"Steady on there Kaidan." Lucien said. "You've lost a bit of blood."

"I'm fine Lucien." He said sternly. I have noticed that Kaidan is apprehensive at times of having our healing magic worked on him. I don't know whether this is out of stubborn pride or something else. 

"Don't be stupid." Lucien reprimanded him. "If you don't take care of yourself, who's going to take care of us?"

"You make a fair point." He relented.

"Of course I do. It's like I keep telling you all. I'm the smart one." A rare thing when Lucien can stand up to Kaidan. Rarer still that Kaidan accepts advice or help. 

"You two made quite a sight." Auri said to Kaidan and I. "When your feet flew up over your heads like that." 

"Glad you were entertained." I said wryly, soothing the aches that still lingered in my head and joints. 

"Well you all heard Svaknir. According to him, we're bards!" Lucien declared. "At the very least we're bringing two stories for the college to add to their own. King Olaf's Lost Verse, and our own! Four intrepid adventurers delving into a crypt to aid the ghost of a long dead bard. Avenging him against an ancient tyrant. I wouldn't be surprised if Giraud composes a song in our honor."

"Getting a little ahead of yourself Lucien." I said. "Let's worry about getting the verse back to Solitude first." Though I couldn't suppress a smile at the thought.

We exited the tomb to find ourselves beneath a starlit sky and made camp at the foot of the ruin, and I am content to sleep for once. Divines do I ache!


	40. Who We Were Before

**Entry Sixty-Three**

The first rays of dawn have awoken me, but I find my mind is still on last night's feasting around our campfire. Divines I've never met a soul that can prepare venison roast better than Auri. She claims it's far from her best since she's limited in how she can prepare meat while on the road. 

"I much prefer to let it soak in some herbs overnight first. And let it roast over the fire from morning until sunset to make it tender enough to fall off the bone. Maybe even mix it in a stew."

This led to more discussion between herself and Lucien on Bosmer culture. He and I are still endlessly fascinated by what she tells us of Valenwood. After all, she is the only Wood Elf from their homeland we've ever met. Every wood elf I've ever come across was either born and raised in Cyrodiil or in Skyrim and seldom practice most aspects of their homeland's culture. Lucien loves hearing the academic side of her heritage: their religion, their social customs, even their food. I find it interesting as well, but cherish more when she tells us Bosmer stories. Like how Y'ffre formed the Green and created the Wood Elves from the ooze. Or the tale of the eternal bond between the Sylvenar and the Green Lady, the Bosmer emissaries between the wood elves and the Green.

"My mother told me many of our stories. She was after all a spinner, a priestess of Y'ffre. To them, every story is a thread in the great tapestry of the Bosmer. Some say they can even take hold of the threads and change the past."

"Could your mother do that?" I asked with rapt attention.

"I don't know. She never intimated as much. I can't believe I never asked."

"What of your father?" I asked. "Or siblings?"

"My father is one of our village's greatest huntsmen, and then there is my little sister. Our pride and joy who I love very dearly."

"Why didn't they come to Skyrim?" I asked. 

At this, Auri's normally rosy face lowered over her meat, and the corners of her lips turned down. But only slightly. "Oh, they could never leave our home in Valenwood, the great Graht Oaks and the warm embrace of the Green all around us."

"So why did you?" Lucien asked in his usual tactless way. 

Instead of answering directly, Auri said "Have you ever seen a hoarvor? They're like ticks. But they're enormous, and they burrow their fangs into your chest. They're very dangerous predators in Valenwood. I'm glad there aren't any in Skyrim."

Sensing her reluctance to speak more on the matter of her family, I turned the conversation to Lucien. "I don't think you've ever told us about your family. What are your parents like?"

"Oh, well my father Davidicus Flavius is an academic as I've mentioned. Like me. Always up to his elbows in old scrolls. He does a lot of consultancy work for the Imperial government. Hunts down relics for them. That sort of thing."

"Looks like you've taken up the family business then eh?" Kaidan said with a grin.

"Oh, well yes. I suppose you could say that."

"What of your mother?" I asked.

"Ah, Captain Lyra of the Imperial Legion. She and I couldn't be more different. But she's always supported me in everything I've done. She fought against the Thalmor in the Great War. In fact, she was there for Lord Naarifin's defeat at the Battle of the Red Ring!" Hearing this, I excitedly asked if it were possible Lucien's mother knew you Uncle Dravus. "Dravus Secundus. I'm afraid that name is unfamiliar to me. He's a Questor you say? Did he fight in the Great War?"

I shook my head. "He was too young to enlist at the time. But his older brother and sister did. My Uncle Meridius, and my mother Violetta."

"Ah, seems like your family has a proud history of service with the legion."

I nodded.

"You know what," Kaidan interjected. "Tell me something Kieran. Who were you before you discovered the dragon blood in you?"

"No one special really." I said. 

"I doubt that. But you wouldn't be the first hero to come from humble beginnings."

"I wouldn't say humble." I admitted. "My Uncle Meridius is the Count of Chorrol. And his wife serves on the Elder Council."

"I've been knocking about with an aristocrat?" Kaidan mused. "Who'd have thought."

"What of your parents?" Auri asked.

I inhaled long and slow before answering. It was inevitable that this would one day come up between my companions and I. 

"They're both dead." I answered.

"Oh... I'm sorry." She stammered, fearing she had overstepped.

"It's alright." I replied. "It was a long time ago. My mother died when I was seven. My father Edmond Lauriel died before I was born. He was a Breton noble of some province in High Rock. Mother never said where. Only that he was exiled to Skyrim and was living in the Reach when they met. She was a Legate stationed in Markarth at the time. Her family was furious when they married. Especially Uncle Meridius. When she returned home pregnant and alone, he resented me the moment I was born. He only grew worse when mother passed. Called me a mongrel. Said I was just like those heathen "witch-elves" he fought in the war. How our family's legacy was built on keeping the empire safe from half-breeds like me."

"I'm sorry." Kaidan said. "Didn't mean to open up old wounds. That's something no child should have to grow up with."

"It's alright." I replied. "Sometimes I wonder if looking at me really made him miss his sister. But I had my mother for awhile. And I had Uncle Dravus when he could come home to visit, or when we made trips to the Imperial City. He's the one who taught me how to shoot a bow and use a sword. When he could keep it secret from Uncle Meridius that is." At their encouragement, I told them many stories of the good times you and I had shared, those stolen hunting trips into the great forest, or the pilfering of honey-nut treats from the kitchen. I thank Phynaster every day that you were there for me. Without you, I know I would not be where I am now, adventuring on my own path with companions I love and trust.

"He sounds like a right paragon of Cyrodiil." Lucien said of you. "Reminds me of my dear mother."

"Do you have any siblings?" I asked. 

"Oh no. I am my parent's one and only. The apple of their eye. So of course they spoilt me rotten. What of you Kaidan? What was it like growing up in the wilds as you did? Tell us about your... warrior upbringing."

Kaidan leaned back and gazed into the crackling fire. "Well, it was a nomadic life. Saw more of Tamriel in ten years than most do in their entire lives, I think. And we slept under the stars most nights. Had a weapon put in my hand from the moment I could walk really. Sadly didn't have the luxury of learning anything if it wasn't key to survival." He smiled then. "Still, wouldn't trade those years with Brynjar for anything."

"Amazing. The things you must have seen in your childhood." Lucien replied with reverence. "Still, I'm not sure I envy you that lifestyle. Don't get me wrong, it's been a real adventure these nights under the stars, on the road with the finest warriors in Skyrim." He raised his mug to us. "Still, ultimately I've always preferred the comforts of home.

"It shows." We all said at once.

It was a happy evening we shared last night, learning more of one another. But I would be lying if I said Auri's hesitancy to talk more about her family didn't have me curious. Even when she tells those stories of Valenwood she holds so close to her heart, there is a shade of sadness just skirting the edge of her voice. Perhaps she will tell us why one day. But if she does not, I can hardly begrudge her a secret. Divines know I still have some of my own. 

I'm grateful to have companions who I trust enough to share my past with. Though I did not tell them all. Everything involving Aunt Lavinia I don't know that I'll ever tell them. Not out of mistrust. But I know she and her servants or even her Thalmor allies must be searching for me still, eager to take my life for what I know. And if she learns of my new friends, if any of them ever fall into her hands, there is no telling the lengths she and hers will go in order to extract what they know from their lips. Kaidan still bears the scars of Thalmor cruelty, and I will die before allowing him to endure more. And the thought of Lucien or Auri suffering on my behalf under those monsters does plague my dreams almost as much as the black dragon and the burning of Helgen. No, for their safety I will keep that to myself. Lucien, Kaidan, and Auri, they are more than companions to me now. They are as dear to me as you are Uncle. They are family.


	41. Man and Mer's Best Friend

**Entry Sixty-Four**

On our way back to Solitude in the early morning we passed by a heavily fortified camp, in a place its inhabitants called Robbers Gorge. From a safe vantage point in the hills above we could see they had a rather ingenious setup. Boulders rigged to fall on passerby, look out posts, fences of sharpened stakes, and right in our path. Naturally we couldn't allow such a well manned and fortified camp stay functioning. Who knows how many travelers they've waylaid on the road. We happily took the detour to put a stop to their operation. 

Their leader was a woman clad in armor of boiled chitin leather. It's an ugly red splotched material that gave off the impression that she was drenched in blood. She was a fearsome opponent, but I've yet to meet a bandit that Kaidan can't bring down in two strokes of his sword or less. 

We picked off the watchmen from a distance so they wouldn't be able to retaliate with their traps or arrows. Got a bit singed by a mage they had in their service as well. On their leader we found a key to a trap door beneath the hut at the height of the camp. It led to a small cove where the river outside drifted in. A small boat was moored on the shore, and on the table we found the journal of the bandit leader. Once again it seems we encroached on a bandit gang in the beginnings of a mutiny. What sort of life do these people lead that there is no loyalty among them to their companions? 

The journal intimated that she had been skimming off the top of their plunder in the hopes of soon having enough to leave the gang behind and escape to Dragon Bridge. A shame she'll never have the chance now. Perhaps she could have forged a decent life for herself. Then again it would have been a life built on the gold and blood of innocent people. 

Following the clues left in the journal, we decided to take it for ourselves. No sense leaving it there. It was tucked away in a chest hidden behind a tree stump on a little river island to the south of the cove. But the loot wasn't the most interesting part of the island. Some steps from the chest we came upon a grave marked by a great tablet of bleached white stone. It was etched all over with red markings of nordic runes and symbols. Symbols of a strange beasts, a warrior, and a red cross. Lucien believes the markings are meant to honor one of the divines, or saints, but he's unsure of which one.

"My best guess would be Pelinal Whiteshrake, Paladin demi-god, hero of the Alessian slave rebellion, and Alessia's most powerful general. But it is somewhat primitive, so I can only speculate. I wonder who's buried here."  
We made a rubbing of the markings for later. Perhaps Giraud or Auryen at the museum could tell us more. 

**Entry Sixty-Five**

Our merry band has grown again. Leaving the river and Robber's Gorge behind, we passed through a small wooded area where Auri said she heard a whining, an animal in some distress. We followed where her ears led her and came across a small shack in the middle of the wood. It was a sparse dwelling with only a few comforts of home. A shelf stocked with dried meat and vegetables, and a bed where a solitary nord lay with his eyes closed. But the food had rotted away and even from outside the shack, the stench wafting from him told us the poor man was dead. At the dead man's bedside was the source of the whining Auri had heard, a half-starved hound.

"Oh you poor thing. What happened to your friend?" Auri knelt beside the dog and let him sniff her hand before giving her some of the meat from her pack. A small table stood beside the bed, and on it the journal of the dead man. Or at least a note, a last will and testament left behind for any who happened upon it. 

The man had been living alone in the wilderness for reasons the journal did not disclose, subsisting off the land. He'd suffered from a bad bout of rockjoint, and at last it had caught up with him. When the day came he knew the disease would take him, he was content to lie down and await his death with dignity. He was content in the knowledge his friends were also long dead and he was at the end of a life he felt he'd lived well. His only regret was that his faithful hound (whom he wrote was named Meeko) would be left alone at his passing. The journal implored any who read it to take Meeko into their care.

I remember how proud Uncle Meridius was of his prized hunting hounds, and the days I spent in their kennel, feeding them and making sure they got their exercise. It was my favorite chore, and one of the few things I could look forward to in my days at the estate. How I had loved to run and play with those hounds. I wonder if they miss me.

Kaidan knew what we were going to ask before we'd said anything.

"Absolutely not. I've already got my hands full looking after you lot. I'm not taking care of a mutt."

"He's not a mutt." Auri said, scratching behind Meeko's ears. "He's a noble creature. Aren't you boy? Who's a good boy?"

"Come now Kaidan, have a heart." Lucien pleaded. "We can't very well leave such a loyal creature to starve beside his dead master can we? That's just depressing."

Kaidan folded his arms resolutely. "Will you listen to yourselves? Do any of you know the first thing about caring for hounds? This mutt's a good size. He's going to need a lot of tending to."

"Auri's a Bosmer." Lucien pointed out. "She can talk to him."

"That's not the same as caring for him. Auri's more likely to let him run wild round the camp, rubbing his stink against our bedding and pissing on our gear while we sleep."  
If Auri was offended by this observation she didn't show it. 

"I could take care of him." I pleaded. "I used to take care of our hunting hounds in Chorrol. Please Kaidan. He has no one else. I'll feed him, I'll keep him clean, and make sure he gets his exercise. Can we take him with us? Please?"

"It'll be a team effort." Lucien said in a show of solidarity. With four pairs of eyes pleading with him to say yes, Kaidan let out a long sigh.

"Well it's three against one, and the Dragonborn has spoken. But first chance we get, you're giving that mutt a bath. Damn dog stinks worse than death."

"Promise." I replied. And so it was the Meeko joined our band, and the five of us returned to Solitude.


End file.
